


My friends won't love me like you

by Samcgrath



Category: One Direction (Band), Supernatural (minor)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Drunk Sex, Epic Bromance, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Louis, Jealousy, Louis in Denial, M/M, Niall and Harry are cousins, Oh and Dean is Louis' football Coach, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1973535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samcgrath/pseuds/Samcgrath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis meet accidentally and end up being best mates within hours. The lads have accepted them as LouisandHarry, the dream team. But it's not as simple because they're both drawn toward each other every second but Louis' past won't let him give in to the urge to kiss his best mate and Harry can't understand why he's not enough. </p><p>How many times can Harry play hot and cold with Louis before he gives up? How many times can Louis see strangers coming out of Harry's room in the morning before he gives up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I wanna hide the truth

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my big Summer Project. It's going to be at least 50k, but probably much longer. As you've noticed, this has characters from another show in various capacities. I will try to do them justice. And rating will go up in later chapters. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction, neither am I profiting from this. It's not real, just a figment of my imagination. Sometimes when I can't sleep, I write. Nothing more, nothing less.
> 
> Second, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Please let me know what you think. PS - The title is from 'Friends' by Ed Sheeran.

There’s a light snoring noise coming from somewhere. _He lives alone._

 

Harry opens his eyes, blinks furiously in an effort to adjust to the darkness and the first thing he sees is a figure lying next to him in bed. It’s a boy, he can tell but that’s all because whoever it is, is facing away from him.

 

He moves a little – slowly, so as not to disturb the boy – and pushes up on his elbows to lean a little closer and sees long hair and a cute little button nose. Whoever this is, is absolutely breathtaking in the moonlight filtering in through the window as it bathes the stranger in the most delicate way.

 

Harry can only see the profile, feathery fringe as it falls over the person’s forehead and smooth golden skin with sharp cheekbones and a defined jaw. He dares sweep his gaze downward and finds the stranger curled in on himself, curvy body folded in away from Harry. As much as he tries not to, his eyes are pulled toward the glorious swell of the stranger’s arse and Harry swallows against the moan that almost escapes his lips.

 

The boy moves a little in his sleep, unfolding a little so Harry can now see an arched back and small hands as they lie against the quilt. He wants to reach out and curl his fingers against the stranger’s, hold his hand as he sleeps peacefully with little sniffs. He wants to hold this boy against his chest, feel his skin against his own.

 

But it’s just midnight thoughts and desires, he convinces himself and lies back down. This is probably just a dream. He will wake up alone in his empty bed tomorrow morning. Stealing one last look at the beautiful boy next to him, Harry takes a deep breath and closes his eyes as sleep pulls him under.

 

***

 

He wakes up to a loud yelp very close to his ear and with his eyes still closed and his eardrums almost shattered, he tries to roll away from the sound and falls off the bed with a loud thump. That is a very good wake-up call, his eyes fly open just as his back hits the carpet quite painfully and he sits up to see a stranger sitting on his bed with a pillow hugged to his chest.

 

He looks familiar.

 

It takes Harry longer that it should to figure out why; it’s the boy from last night. The boy Harry had convinced himself he was dreaming about. He’s actually here, in Harry’s bed. Shirtless.

 

He looks even better than Harry had imagined him to be from his profile last night. As delicate as he had looked in the moonlight, he’s all sharp angles and strong eyes as the sunlight falls on him from the open blinds. His shoulders are taut, back straight and arms gripping the pillow as he stares at Harry with piercing blue eyes.

 

Right. Stranger.

 

Harry should say something, maybe introduce himself.

 

“Hi?”

 

He hits his head on the edge of the bed, why can’t he ever say something clever or something right for a change. Why does he always have to ruin everything by opening his mouth.

 

The boy is still staring at him with a frown on his face so Harry tries again- this time with a smile on his face.

 

“Good morning.”

 

That doesn’t help much, he can see the boy narrowing his eyes at Harry. God, he is so beautiful.

 

“Who’re you?”

 

The boy’s voice is higher than Harry had expected but it so perfectly suits him, and with his thick accent evident in even those two words, Harry could listen to him listing grocery items. But, stranger.

 

“I’m Harry, and yo--”

 

“What’re you doing here?”

 

Well, that’s definitely rude. Not that he would ever accuse the boy of being rude but it is so. First, he wakes up in Harry’s bed - he’s not complaining about that part - and then screams at the top of his lungs and is now asking what Harry is doing in his own bed.

 

Is he amnesiac? Is that what’s happening? He’s about to ask when--

 

“Where’s Zayn?”

 

Harry almost settles down on the carpet, just listening to that voice and sighing to himself because the ups and down of the boy’s tone with his Yorkshire accent is making something settle in him. London is still new to him, the air still sticking to his skin like a vice but this boy makes him feel like he isn’t that far away from home.

 

He doesn’t know how that could be true, how a stranger could make him feel at home in a new bed in a strange city.

 

Right, matter at hand. Stranger in bed.

 

“What is a _zayn_?”

 

“What is a--that’s a person. Zayn. This is his bed.”

 

Amnesiac is looking more and more probable with every passing second. Or maybe schizophrenia.

 

“Not it isn’t. It’s mine.”

 

The boy looks around at this, his eyes widen as they settle on the bare walls that Harry still hasn’t had a chance to fill - he’s only been in town twelve hours or so.

 

“Where am I?”

 

Okay, definitely amnesiac.

 

“Do you remember your name?”

 

The boy turns around with the sassiest look Harry has ever seen on anyone. His eyes are narrowed, thin lips in line and he looks more unimpressed than Harry remembers his PE teacher looking every time he saw Harry stumble.

 

Lesser people have withered from that look, Harry is sure. Just vanished on the spot when those eyes were staring at them unimpressed. He can feel his own skin heating up as the boy glares at him silently.

 

“Ri--right. So, you’re kind of lost, I think? But, like, I'm not implying that you--”

 

“I don’t have time for this. By the time you’re done talking, I’ll be across town.”

 

Harry’s words die on his tongue when the boy pulls the pillow away from his chest and for the briefest moment Harry is blinded by golden skin. As the boy pulls his shirt on, Harry shamelessly stares at his bare chest and the tattoos littered across it.

 

He’s sure he is drooling a little bit. But the boy seems to take no notice of his ogling and just gets up from the bed with his shoes in hand and then stands there staring expectantly at him.

 

“The door?”

 

God, every word out of his mouth is biting. Harry feels so dizzy with how fast and how bright this boy is, and he’s scrambling to keep up.

 

“Oh, right. This way.”

 

He tries to keep his balance as he walks toward the front door, almost stumbles in the lobby but manages to stay on his feet after a fair bit of flailing. The boy seems to be looking at him with curious eyes and a small smile tugging at his lips.

 

After his failed attempt at being a co-ordinated walker on even ground, he leads the boy to the door and holds it open for him.

 

“Thanks.”

 

That’s all the boy says before walking out through the door and looking down the corridor with a frown on his face. As much as Harry wants to stand there till the boy leaves, he figures that’s inappropriate and so unwillingly closes the door behind himself and goes back to lie down on his bed.

 

It isn’t until he picks up the pillow the boy had been hugging to his chest that he remembers he doesn’t know the boy’s name. An hour later when he’s still laying in bed thinking, he’s almost convinced himself that there was no boy. He had imagined him, all his desires and wants manifested in a fragment of his imagination.

 

His stomach growls pitifully to remind him that he hasn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon and he finally gets out of bed with a loud sigh.

 

Just as he’s about to leave the flat to go find the closest Tesco’s to get food for the empty fridge, his phone starts ringing in his pocket. It’s a struggle to get it out of his skinny jeans but he manages somehow and his face lights up when he sees who it is, even more so when a loud voice exclaims through the phone, “How is my favourite cousin?”

 

“Nialler! You back from Ireland yet?”

 

“I am, mate. Just got back about an hour ago. Where you at?”

 

“Oh, remember that flat you showed me--”

 

“Oh yeah, we should go talk to the landlady. That one would go fast--”

 

“I already signed the lease.”

 

“You what? When? Nevermind, we should get you moved then.”

 

“I did. Last night.”

 

“Are you saying that you’re in the flat right now?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Oh my feckin'--get out of there!”

 

“What?”

 

He can’t help the panic crawling over his skin when he hears Niall say that. And it’s instinct that he runs to his bedroom to grab his laptop before running toward the door and getting out barefoot with his phone clutched in one hand and his laptop clutched in the other.

 

He’s scared of what Niall's going to tell him next, just as he’s panting in the corridor outside the flat when he hears howling laughter next to him and turns his head to see Niall standing there with his face red as he laughs his arse off.

 

What.

 

“Your face! I’m sorry, but you should see your face right now, Hazza! Oh God!”

 

Harry is beyond confused right now as Niall walks over and pulls him into a hug. His stomach growls again as if on a schedule and Niall pulls back to look at him before taking his hand and pulling him along and into the flat next to his.

 

“I live in this flat here. I thought it’d be good if you moved in close, I could keep an eye on you. Didn’t think you’d be moved in already when I got back.”

 

He’s taking in all this information as Niall pulls him into the flat and slams the door shut behind him. The flat is messy inside, shoes and clothes littered everywhere and a half-empty suitcase in the middle of the floor.

 

Niall stops next to the suitcase and bends over to pick up a t-shirt and pulls it on. Harry hadn’t even noticed that Niall wasn’t wearing a shirt, in his hurry to get out of his flat after Niall scared him.

 

“Sorry about the mess, but what do you expect when there’s four blokes living in one flat? Anyway, that over there is Liam, you’ve met him before when you and the family came around for the hols.”

 

Harry is just now noticing the boy in the kitchen with his back to them who turns around at the mention of his name and yes, Harry does remember him actually. He used to have curly hair back then but now it's shaved close to his head but Harry can see the similarities with the young boy he’d met about four years ago.

 

“Harry, you’re here! You’ve grown up quite a bit.”

 

Liam comes over and pulls him into a hug, Harry however is still frozen because he fled his flat with his laptop in hand because Niall scared him and now he’s standing in Niall’s flat with Liam and his stomach is still growling.

 

“Niall, what did you do? He looks so lost.”

 

“I just--”

 

A third voice calls out from somewhere before another boy appears from one of the rooms. He is pretty much walking like a zombie, and then flops down on the big sofa. If it wasn’t for the grumbling, Harry thinks the boy might be sleep walking.

 

“That's Zayn, our third room mate. He doesn’t wake up before 1 so he’s still processing.”

 

Harry dumbly nods his head and thinks that name sounds familiar for some reason. He is pretty good with shock situations but right now he’s having trouble coping because he was alone in London just ten minutes ago, still trying to feel comfortable in this huge city all on his own. And now he’s got Niall, his best mate and cousin living next door to him. And there’s Liam who he remembers is one of the friendliest people he’s ever met and just like that he isn’t alone in this huge city. That realization hits him out of the blue and he surges forward to hug Niall.

 

Niall just chuckles and hugs him back, his grip is tight around Harry and his laptop is squished between them which isn’t comfortable but Niall holds him for a second anyway and sighs as if in relief.

 

“It’s so good to have you here, Hazza. I was worried about you.”

 

Harry pulls back and smiles at Niall, trying to convince him that he’s alright.

 

“It’s great to see you, I wasn’t sure when you were coming back.”

 

“Yeah sorry about that. I fell asleep the second I got in the door, didn’t think you were in London already. I was actually planning on driving up to Cheshire to get you.”

 

“Yeah, I uh--I didn’t feel like sticking around there.”

 

Niall seems to sense his discomfort in talking about Cheshire so he doesn’t push it.

 

“It’s alright, tell me when you’re ready. Meanwhile, let’s get some food in you. Li, you got anything done?”

 

He’s pushed to sit down on the sofa next to Zayn who huffs in his sleep and leans into Harry. Liam thrusts a plate of pancakes in his hand and Niall sits down on the floor and digs into his food. Harry sits there motionless for a second, just taking all of this in.

 

He should feel awkward, he hasn’t been as close to Niall as he used to be. But somehow they’ve picked up just where they left off, and Niall is still as lovable as ever as he gorges on his syrupy pancakes. Liam puts another pancake in his plate and nudges him with his arm, nodding toward the plate with a smile on his face.

 

“Thanks, Liam.”

 

“Eat up, mate.”

 

He smiles back and digs in. This doesn’t feel awkward at all, he moves a bit closer to Zayn who leans his head on Harry’s shoulder and starts snoring softly. He smiles to himself and starts eating his pancakes, thinking this is a great start to his life in London.

 

***

 

Niall is rifling through his half unpacked suitcase when he stumbles in through the front door, the lad looks up and stops mid air with a pack of crisps in his hand.

 

“Did you bring _crisps_ from Ireland, Niall?”

 

Niall just grins at him in that way he does that makes you want to pinch his cheeks and then get him anything he asks for. Louis braces himself for a crushing hug as Niall runs towards him and jumps at him like a monkey.

 

He tries to be stoic and not give in but 0.3 seconds in, he’s bringing his arms around Niall and hugging him back. They stumble a little but finally end up on the sofa with their limbs entangled.

 

“So good to have you back, mate.”

 

“Aw, did ya miss me, Tommo?”

 

“Oh piss off!”

 

“I did, I missed you a lot every day.”

 

“I did too, Nialler. Especially when those two wouldn’t go to the football pitch with me.”

 

“Well what else do you expect from Zayn? And Liam--”

 

“Was too busy kissing the arse of this week's girlfriend.”

 

“Aww, poor Lou. I’ll go with you tonight if you want.”

 

“This is why I love you the most, Ni.”

 

“You say that to all the boys.”

 

“Only you, Niall. Always you, my dear.”

 

Niall shakes his head and gets up from the sofa finally, and digging his hand into his packet of crisps. He even offers Louis one crip, which is pretty much a marriage proposal from Niall so he takes it with a grin on his face.

 

Niall goes away to his room to find his phone leaving Louis on the sofa with his thoughts. Thoughts of green eyes and a mess of curls. As frustrated and confused as he had been waking up next to that boy, he can’t deny that he was the most beautiful person Louis’ ever seen. And in the five minutes it took him to get out of the stranger's bed and back to his own flat, he’s constantly been thinking of bright eyes and dimples. He knows the boy lives next door, he could ask him out if he wants.

 

But then, memories of a past life wrack through him like a truck on a highway ploughing through unsuspecting cars and isn’t that a fucking comparison. Every time he’s reminded of his past, of those scars he wants to forget about, he gets lost in his own head.

 

It’s too early in the morning for this so he pushes those thoughts away and strips his way to his bedroom. Ten is too early to be awake and doing things so he pulls the covers over himself and falls asleep with an intentionally blank mind.

 

***

 

There’s a loud bang from somewhere and that’s what jars him awake. The sun is high in the sky and if he wasn’t starving he’d just roll around and go back to bed. As it is, he hasn’t eaten anything since the pizza last night so he sits up and stretches as a yawn rips through him.

 

He can hear voices in the lobby, even Zayn’s lazy drawl, so he forces himself to leave his very comfortable bed because if Zayn is up then he should be awake by now. But just because it’s late doesn’t mean he’ll try to put on clothes or wash his face before he gets food.

 

He’s just dragging himself toward the kitchen - hair mussed from sleep, only dressed in his pants, hands rubbing his eyes while he yawns again - when he hears the middle of the conversation going on in the lobby. His feet stop moving when he hears what’s being said.

 

“--ate an entire plant cuz Zee dared him to and then he didn’t shit for an entire week. Oh there he is the lazy arse, Tommo!”

 

His eyes had wandered the room to see who’s being regaled with his tales of bravery - because all the occupants of this house already know and were present during the plant-eating incident - and they stutter to a stop on the stranger. It’s the boy from before who is now lounging on his sofa with his feet in Niall’s lap and his head cradled on Zayn’s shoulder as he laughs with every single fibre of his being - loud and cheerful with no restraint whatsoever.

 

Louis is so mesmerised by this boy that he doesn’t hear Niall calling his name till he feels Liam nudging him with his elbow as he walks by. The boy seems to have stopped laughing now and is staring at Louis with wide eyes, a dusting of pink high on his cheeks and Louis is absolutely lost.

 

Niall’s loud voice cuts through his thoughts and he has to shake his head to clear out the hazy thoughts. Zayn is looking at him with a raised eyebrow, his face is giving away that he knows what Louis’ thinking. Niall is thankfully unaware, the boy himself is now looking at Niall and Liam is nowhere to be seen.

 

“--my cousin that I was telling you lads about. He’s just moved in to the flat next to ours and he’s starting at London U in two weeks. And Harry, that bum over there is Louis.”

 

That--he didn’t see that coming.

 

Niall had been blabbering about his cousin moving to London for ages now, Liam had met him years ago apparently and thought he was the best person ever but then Liam always thought everyone was the best person ever so Louis and Zayn had just laughed it off. Niall had asked them if they were alright with Harry being around them, going out with him once in a while so he could keep an eye on his cousin and they’d all agreed that if the bloke was alright they’d welcome him into their little group.

 

Right now, Zayn is letting Harry use him as a pillow. Zayn never lets anyone even touch him unless he feels super comfortable with them. And Harry is spread out over Zayn whose fingers are curled up in Harry’s hair.

 

Louis needs a moment to sit down.

 

Then Liam walks back from the kitchen and hands Harry a cup of tea. Liam yells at Louis for being a lazy bum and not making his own tea almost everyday. And he’s making tea for Harry and even getting it to him while he sits and does nothing.

 

Louis needs more than a moment.

 

It seems that the lads have already accepted Harry into their group. The little puppy-pile they’ve got going on is quite a display and Harry seems absolutely taken with all of them. Well, who is Louis to stand in the middle of that.

 

So he nods his head at Harry and walks back toward the bathroom and gets into the shower because first impressions and all. Although, he’s already made a first impression on Harry.

 

He rests his head against the tiled wall as the warm water cascades down his shoulders, Harry must think so lowly of him. Louis woke up in Harry’s bed and then walked out without an explanation. He thought he’d never see the boy again and now he’s in the lobby with his mates drinking tea and probably laughing about Louis.

 

He finishes up quickly and gets dressed in his track pants and the ratty old shirt from some concert years ago and walks straight to the kitchen.

 

The lads are still talking about their first year - the dorm year - when all they did was play pranks on people and get plastered. Harry is still laughing loud and clear at their stories, and the others look like they want to adopt him. Louis feels a weird tug in his chest as he observes from the kitchen while his kettle boils.

 

“--had a fight with a professor about Shakespeare. He looked like he wanted to strangle Louis but Tommo stood his ground and just glared right back at him. Zayn and I were sniggering in the back row the entire time.”

 

He walks in with his cup of tea and sits down next to Harry, the only spot empty on the huge sofa after the lads have apparently relocated. He could’ve sat on the floor but for some reason he felt a pull toward that seat so he just shrugs and settles in next to the boy he’s still making up his mind about.

 

Zayn is laughing, most probably remembering that dreadful day in first year when Louis had had that argument with Mr. Crowley and how that had ended. Liam is just looking at Louis with the same look of disappointment that he always has whenever Louis speaks up or fucks shit up. And Niall is just shaking his head in amusement.

 

Harry’s eyes are piercing through him though, sharp and bright and so different from this morning. His gaze is intense with his body almost turned toward Louis, his bottom lip caught between sharp teeth and Louis absolutely refuses to stare at that obscene sight.

 

To get this boy to look away, or at least shift that intense focus off of Louis, he decides to tell a joke. Well, anything to make Harry stop looking at him like that.

 

“People tend to forget that at least 69% of Shakespeare is dick jokes. ‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them’, that is clearly a dick joke. I’m appalled how people ever take him seriously!”

 

He is taken off-guard when a loud seal-bark escapes Harry’s mouth before he can stop it with his hand slapping on his mouth, even then he’s giggling next to Louis with his eyes actually twinkling like a fucking disney princess and Louis just wants to tell him every joke he knows.

 

Harry is so unconcerned about the other lads making fun of his laugh, he’s almost falling off the sofa in his effort to stop that seal bark and Louis loves it when people laugh at his jokes, absolutely craves that kind of response but this boy is so happy from just a silly quip and Louis doesn’t know what to do with himself.

 

He just sits there dumbfounded, staring at Harry who is still laughing with no qualms about the world. Niall and Liam seem to have moved onto other topics, Zayn gives Louis a look that means ‘Be careful’ and then he turns and leans into Niall with a concentrated look on his face.

 

Louis and Harry are left facing each other, and for some godforsaken reason Louis feels like he’s looking straight into the sun. Harry is smiling at him with his fucking dimples etched deep in his cheeks before opening his mouth and capturing Louis with that slow, rough drawl of his.

 

“Niall said you were a bit funny, but that was absolutely hilarious! You’re probably the funniest person I know.”

 

Louis tries to look away from his lips as Harry speaks but that’s easier said than done when he’s got the most beautiful lips Louis has ever seen. That colour couldn’t be natural, what is it? Chanel? _Maybelline?_ And how are lips that plump? Did a bee sting him recently?

 

Harry is looking at him expectantly, his smile still hasn’t faltered and Louis makes a decision in that instant. He is going to be nice to this boy, he’s going to go out of his way to be nice to him because people like Harry deserve people being nice to them.

 

  
“I try. D’you want another tea?”

 

Harry nods his head so enthusiastically that you’d think Louis was offering him a country to rule or something. And where Louis would usually be annoyed if Liam did the same thing, he finds himself shaking his head in an effort to hide his smile as he leads Harry into the kitchen.

 

When Louis turns around to ask him what kind of tea he wants, Harry stops walking abruptly and looks like a kid caught with a candy in their mouth. 

 

“Yorkshire?”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“Pay attention, Harold. What kind of tea do you want?”

 

“Oh, sorry. Um, herbal.”

 

“I was considering making you my new best mate but this is a deal-breaker.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“No best mate of mine drinks weak leaf water. It’s the tea version of skim milk, tastes like shit.”

 

Harry is giggling again and Louis would very much like him to stop.

 

“Sorry, I get headaches if I drink strong tea. I didn’t realise you were that enthusiastic about tea.”

 

“There’s a few things I’m this serious about, Harold. Tea and football, on top of that short list.”

 

Harry nods slowly as if making a mental note to remember that, as if it’s important information. Louis is so close to losing his shit over this boy.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Louis turns around and fetches the tea from the cupboard because he can’t bear to look at Harry and his dimpled smile any longer. He feels a light touch on his back and flinches as a knee-jerk reaction. When he turns around, Harry is looking at the floor ashamedly with his hands laced together behind him.

 

“Sorry, I was just checking the date on the back of your shirt. I went to the same concert, I think.”

 

Louis wants to pull Harry into a hug or something, comfort him and tell him it’s alright. It was just on instinct that he flinched, Harry doesn’t need to be sorry. Instead he just shakes his head at him to let him know that they’re alright.

 

“Manchester in 2008?”

 

“Yeah, O2. I love the Script, that was a great concert.”

 

Louis feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end because that’s the concert he went to and it seems like a twist of fate or summat that he and Harry were at the same concert years ago and didn’t meet till now even though Niall has known them both for a while.

 

“I’m a massive fan too. It _was_ a great concert.”

 

Harry just nods his head and takes his tea. Louis almost drops the cup when he feels their fingers brushing together, but if Harry notices he doesn’t say anything.

 

“Oh also, thanks for not telling them about this morning. I was trying to jump in through Zayn’s window, but I was pretty plastered so I guess I accidentally jumped through yours. Sorry about that.”

 

“That’s alright. It can be our secret.”

 

Harry winks at him and walks away with another dimpled smile and Louis leans against the kitchen counter to take a deep breath. This is going to be a very interesting friendship, interesting and painful.

 

***

 

Twenty-four hours later, Harry is almost sitting in Louis’ lap with his legs folded neatly under him and Louis’ arms around his chest. They’re watching Love Actually because both Harry and Louis had voted for it and Zayn had sleepily agreed. Majority wins so Love Actually it is.

 

In the past day, Harry and Louis have been pretty much inseparable. After the initial shock of meeting a new person was over, Louis discovered that he and Harry were basically the same person essentially. Harry had made fajitas for all of them for lunch and while everyone else had been parked on the sofa watching telly, Louis was sitting on the shelf next to Harry with their feet dangling in the air as they talked about everything they could possibly think of.

 

After the late lunch, the rest of the boys had fallen asleep from exhaustion but Harry and Louis stayed up. From sitting up next to each other with food in the middle, they somehow ended up curled up around each other. Harry had pulled Louis into his lap almost, as they sat and talked about their families. 

 

“My sister - Gemma - is super smart, she’s here in London too. At first I was going to move in with her but then Niall convinced me to get this flat.”

 

“I’ll remember to thank him in the morning.”

 

Harry had just pulled him closer into his chest and nuzzled his face into his neck.

 

“I’m so glad I came here, Lou. So glad I met you.”

 

He can only nod in response. Because there is no way he could even begin to describe what he’s found with Harry in words. This feeling inside him, like there was a missing piece he never knew about and now he’s found it. And now everything fits.

 

He could never explained why in less than twelve hours, Harry has completely turned his world upside down. Why in less than a day, he has become so important to Louis that he can’t even imagine making plans without him, going out without him or being at home watching a film without him.

 

“Me too, Haz.”

 

He can feel Harry’s lips pulling into a smile against his shoulder and just for a brief second he allows himself to think what that smile would feel like pressed against his lips. Then, the ghosts of his past come haunting his thoughts so he pushes it away.

 

“My sisters are a force to be reckoned with, there’s four of them and every single one more evil than the first.”

 

Harry chuckles against his head and moves even closer, Louis wasn’t sure there even was any space between them for him to be closer. He can feel Harry’s warm toes digging into his as their legs get even more tangled and he can’t help the little sigh that leaves his lips.

 

For some strange reason, he feels like he’s home. Which is dumb because of course this is home, it’s been home for about a year now so then why has it never felt like home till now.

 

“Go on, tell me more.”

 

“They’re so cute, though. With their broken front teeth and pigtails, but they’re getting older now. Charlotte is the eldest and she’s dating now. Dating, Harry. She used to be crying about me not letting her paint my nails just a while ago. Now she’s all grown up.”

 

Harry must sense the remorse in his voice because he shifts behind him to pull Louis so they’re both lying down on the couch now with Harry behind him and still holding him close.

 

“It’s alright, she’ll always be your little sister though. I wish I had a little sister, Gemma is super bossy all the time. And she used to make me dress up in mum’s clothes.”

 

An unexpected burst of laughter rips out of him as he thinks of little Harry dressed up in women’s clothes. He feels a bit lighter than he did just a moment ago and even though Harry is pouting behind him, Louis has a feeling that Harry told him this on purpose to cheer him up.

 

“Oh don’t get me wrong, Harold. My sisters are the bossiest girls in Doncaster, they’ve had me dress up as a princess countless times - with pink nails and pigtails and tiaras. And there are photos, thankfully my mum loves me enough to not put them up on the walls.”

 

Harry is shaking behind him, trying to keep his laughter quiet but Louis is only happy that Harry is happy and that he’s laughing even if it’s at his expense. God, this boy is making it so hard for Louis to keep up his ‘heartless bitch’ charade up.

 

“I need to see them. Please?”

 

“If you’ll let me see yours.”

 

“Promise. When you come to Cheshire, I’ll show you.”

 

And it’s just the fact that it took Harry a split-second to agree that makes Louis feel something heavy settle in him. They haven’t even known each other one day and Harry has already promised him something, and told him ‘when’ and not ‘if’ he ever visits Harry’s home. It shouldn’t be this easy, this fast.

 

“Then you’ll have to come with me to Donny! I bet the girls will love to dress you up, with your princess curls and disney-dimples.”

 

“You think I have disney dimples?”

 

Harry is leaning over him now with the dimples in questions making dents in his cheeks as he looks at Louis questioningly.

 

  
“What kind of a question is that? Of course, they are.”

 

Harry just grins wider before lying back down behind him and humming contentedly. Louis can only lie there cocooned in the warmth of Harry, with a smile on his face.

 

***

 

He wakes up to loud clanging noises around him that he tried to block but they kept going so now he’s lying somewhere with his eyes blinking open to find Niall kneeling on the floor and Liam running about the room with a broom in his hand.

 

He tries blinking to clear his vision, check if he’s dreaming but it is actually happening. He feels a line of heat along his back and turns around slightly to find Harry sleeping there on the sofa behind him with his arms and legs still tangled with Louis’.

 

Liam runs through the room again with a broom held firmly in his hands yelling  _Come here, you little shit! I saw you running into my room!_  and Louis remembers to look away from the sleeping boy. Niall is muttering something before he rifles through his suitcase again, Zayn comes in and walks silently to the kitchen, not giving a fuck about anything or anyone as usual.

 

Harry stirs behind him a little and Louis’ eyes get stuck on him, his eyes fluttering open slowly as his nose wrinkles and he jerks awake all of a sudden and the very next moment he’s staring at Louis.

 

Strange thoughts run through his mind, _‘What if he doesn’t remember me? What if he doesn’t remember yesterday?I’ve only known him one day, God, why does it feel like years?’_

And while he’s busy thinking the worst, Harry’s face splits into a huge grin and Louis feels all his breath leave him in one stroke. He’s actually left breathless at the sight of Harry smiling at him with sleepy eyes and messed up hair. God, he’s so beautiful.  
It’s such a delicate moment, Louis feels like he’ll shatter it if he even breathes too loud and cue Niall cursing loudly like a fucking pirate.

 

“Feckin’ arsehole! That little shit, he feckin’ stole it!”

 

And just like that the moment’s gone. Harry bursts out laughing at Niall’s little outburst and Louis steels himself to look away after he takes a second to commit this image to memory. Then, he sighs and gets off the sofa and stretches out the kinks in his back. Harry is right behind him as he stands taller than him while stretching his long limbs. Louis forces himself to turn toward Niall.

 

“Nialler, what’s wrong? Why’re you cursing up a storm?”

 

“Oh hey, Louis. You guys are up, good. I’m just pissed cuz Greg took my signed football I took home to show Dad. I camped outside Anfield for seven hours to get Stevie to sign it and that bastard stole it!”

 

“Oh sorry about that, Ni. But you can get it back, right?”

 

“He’ll never admit to it, that twat!”

 

“Hey maybe you can get Uncle Bobby to find it?”

 

Niall slowly turns to look at Harry with wide eyes as if he’s suggested something as outrageous as fasting and for some unfathomable reason Louis feels himself moving in front of Harry, like physically putting himself between Harry and Niall and he doesn’t even understand his body right now.

 

Niall rushes forward and somehow ends up behind him and jumps onto Harry like a koala.

 

“That’s a brilliant idea, Haz! I’ll ask dad to look when that little shit isn’t home and then Greg won’t be able to lie to him. You’re a genius!”

 

And now Louis feels like an idiot. Great. Harry and Niall are hugging it out behind him and planning how to get the ball back and Louis is left standing there awkwardly scratching his neck and wondering just why the fuck did he feel the need to ‘protect’ Harry from his own cousin.

 

It hits like an arrow to the chest when he finally figures it out a couple hours later, while watching Love Actually with Harry half sitting in his lap and wrapped up in a blanket together. He finally gets it.

 

And when he does, he can’t help himself but hurriedly shove Harry aside and stand up. Harry is looking at him with this shocked, hurt look on his face and the lads have turned around as well, the film long forgotten.

 

“Lou?”

 

Harry’s soft voice cuts through the intrusive thoughts and he looks up at the boy. Doesn’t know what to say, but he does know he can’t be here anymore.

 

“I uh—I need to go do something. At uni. I’ll be back in a bit.”

 

Harry stands up automatically and starts putting his shoes on and Louis knows his words are going to hurt him but he has no choice either.

 

“Harry, you should finish the film. I’ll just be a bit.”

 

Harry’s hands stop on his laces and he looks up with a frown on his face. Goddammnit, it’s only been one day how are they this codependent already, how is it that it’s unthinkable that Louis go somewhere without Harry.

 

“It’s okay I can come alo—“

 

“I need to go alone, Harry.”

 

He turns around and walks to his room without looking at Harry. The boys are all silent behind him and maybe Zayn has a semblance of an idea of what’s happening but otherwise they’re all staring at him when he walks back with his jacket and wallet and leaves the flat.

 

***

 

He’s sitting in the park across town, phone vibrating continuously in his pocket as he stares out into the distance trying to get his pounding heart under control.

 

The thing is it’s been ages; it’s been ages since he’s felt so helpless and so out of control. It’s been ages since his body has defied him, has gone and touched something he warned it against. Touched someone untouchable.

 

It’s not terrible having someone that feels like an extension of his own limbs, being around someone he can’t keep his hands off of but Louis has been burned before in life. Burned enough that he should know better.

 

It’s a heavy burden to have on your shoulders, at such a young age to have endured such hardship but he did. For longer than he really should have and only because he let it go on for that long. Because he let it happen.

 

And now here he is, going out of his mind because he can feel himself losing control again. He hasn’t allowed himself to even look at anyone in that way but just one day of being around him and he’s _falling for Harry_.

 

That’s what’s happening. That’s why he had stood up abruptly in the middle of the film and left the flat without a word of explanation. Because he realized why there was that strange feeling like a coiled spring tight in his chest ever since he woke up.

 

He’s falling for Harry. That’s why he’s been constantly touching him for the past 24 hours, that’s why he felt the need to  
physically put himself in front of the boy when his mind perceived a risk, and that’s why he fell asleep nestled in Harry’s warmth even though he’s been used to an empty, cold bed for years now.

 

He takes a deep breath, a foiled attempt at calming himself down as realisation rips through the walls he’s built around himself for so long now. And Harry is the one begging entrance into what lies inside, guarded from everyone else.

 

Louis likes him, he adores him even. Doesn’t know how it’s possible to feel so deeply for someone in such a short time but he does. Only, he can’t let him in. That cannot happen.

 

So he’ll have to push Harry away when he tries to barge into his shell. He’ll have to keep him at an arm’s length when he gets too close. He won’t send him away, he can’t - they’ve come too far for that now. He’ll learn to keep him around as a mate but never more.

 

He’ll do it.

 

He’s been denying himself things and feelings for a while now, this shouldn’t be that hard. So what if the bright eyes and messy curls are a power to be reckoned with, so what if he feels like he’s found a missing puzzle piece in the boy, so what if he dreamt of a life with Harry last night.

 

He’ll keep him, if only at the cost of never getting to touch him like he wants, never allowing himself to kiss him like he craves. He’ll keep him around if it means denying himself what he most wants.

 

With this promise to himself, he picks his tired body up from the bench and starts walking towards his flat. Out of curiosity, he checks his phone and finds missed calls and texts from the boys. Nothing from Harry, maybe he’s still angry he figures.

 

_You alright, Lou? - Z_

 

_Harry’s pretty worried, it seems. Looks like he’s going to go look for you. - Z_

_H doesn’t have your number, asked me to text you. He says be careful. - Z_

 

There’s a couple texts from Liam and Niall asking if he’s alright. Louis wants to hit himself for making them worry, but he couldn’t just sit there on the sofa surrounded by Harry and with all the other lads while he struggled with the realisation that he’s in deeper than he thought.

 

His phone vibrates again, it’s another text from Zayn. He sighs loudly and opens it, hoping it isn’t about Harry again.

 

_I think we need to have a chat. - Z_

That makes him stop, of course Zayn saw it too. How could Louis be stupid enough to think that Zayn wouldn’t notice him losing his shit. Zayn knows about his past, he’s the only one who knows the whole story.

 

And over the years, Zayn’s been the one to keep him alive. He’s the one that was by Louis’ side through the hard days, never asking anything in return. So, he puts the phone back in his pocket and gets on the bus blocking out all thoughts of Harry.

 

He could deny Zayn, say no to him about that chat. But he owes Zayn, probably will his entire life. And if anyone has the right to ask him something or question his actions, it’s Zayn Malik.

 

***

 

He’s got his head hanging low as he drags his feet toward home. Life buzzes around him, people stumbling through the streets as the sun hangs low in the sky. He only lifts his head as he gets closer to the building, and he pries a figure sitting on the stairs in front of the door.

 

  
He knows it’s Harry before he can even see it properly, pushes the stupid voice in his head aside - the one that claims he shouldn’t be able to tell it’s Harry from this far - and keeps walking till he gets to the stairs.

 

  
Harry lifts his head when he sees a pair of shoes stop in front of him and when he does Louis sees the worry etched deep in his features. He sees Harry looking at him with a smidge of hurt crossing his eyes but he smiles at Louis anyway.

 

  
“Are you okay? Scared me a bit there.”

 

  
Louis smiles at him and sits down next to him. Figures if he’s going to do it, might as well do it now. Tell Harry straight and clear that he can’t give him anything more than friendship.

 

  
“Yeah, yeah I’m alright. Just needed to take a walk.”

 

  
Harry nods at him slowly but doesn’t say anything. He can see the boy biting his tongue around words that are struggling to escape.

 

  
“Louis, I just--look, I don’t know how this is going to sound. I know I’ve only known you a day or so but I swear it feels like years.”

 

  
“I know, Harry. Me too.”

 

  
He can see Harry relaxing next to him, his chest heaving as if he’s just now breathing for the first time since Louis walked out.

 

  
“Okay, well I--Right. Lou, I just want to say that if I ever suffocate you, or you feel like you need space just let me know, okay? I will gladly step back, but just let me know. Don’t walk away from me, _please_.”

 

  
His hands clench into fists in his lap, aching to reach out and touch. To sooth, but also to hit himself for doing this to Harry. For making him feel like Louis walked out on him, he’s about to say something but Harry cuts him off.

 

  
“My dad walked out, a couple other people over the years, I don’t need another person to leave me behind. So just please tell me.”

 

Louis leans into his side and puts his arms around Harry. The boy seems to be holding himself still and even pulling away a little from Louis’ grip but he keeps holding on regardless.

 

  
“I know it’s too early to be putting this on you, but I just wanted to say it before it got too late. And feel free to tell me to shut up any second now.”

 

  
He chuckles a little as Harry frowns at him, probably waiting for Louis to tell him to shut up. He just holds on a bit tighter.

 

  
“It’s okay, Haz. I get it, I should’ve just told you but I wasn’t in my right mind. And you’re not wrong in telling me all this, now I know. And honestly, I’m glad you told me. Thanks for trusting me.”

 

  
“It’s just that I feel like if I hadn’t told you, that there would be more times like this. And I’m a fucking baby when dealing with people leaving or rejection, I know I am but I can’t help it. And to be honest, I’ve never had to deal with this other than my dad and when my sister left for uni.”

 

  
He can feel it again, the spring coiling in his chest with each word failing out of Harry’s lips. And the worst part if he can understand it perfectly, what Harry’s describing. He hasn’t felt this strong a connection with anyone in ages. Sure, he loves the boys but this--this incessant need to always be next to Harry, this hasn’t felt for anyone in years.

 

  
“I get it, Haz. I do. It’s definitely weird what we have here, I feel very close to you. You’re my best mate and I’ve only known you a day so it is plenty weird.”

 

  
Maybe he’s imagining it but he feels Harry flinch a little, he’s probably projecting.

 

  
Harry nods at him and then moves to get up, pulling Louis along with him. When they get back to the flat, the boys are crammed on the big sofa and playing FIFA. All eyes are on him as he walks in, Harry trailing quietly behind him. Niall looks at him worriedly, throws his controller on the table and walks over.

 

  
“You alright there, Lou?”

 

  
Zayn is staring at him from behind Liam and Louis can feel Harry behind him. So close that he can feel his heat on his back. He steps toward the sofa and sits down in Niall’s empty seat.

 

  
“I’m alright, Nialler! Just had to call my mum.”

 

  
“And you couldn’t do that here?”

 

  
Liam is looking at him with knitted eyebrows, Louis knows he’s worried but he’d appreciate it if Liam was a little less nosy. He turns toward him with a glare,

 

  
“There were a couple other things. Had to go to the pitch.”

 

  
“What other--”

 

  
Louis is 2 seconds away from hitting Liam but thankfully Zayn cuts in.

 

  
“Let’s just leave him be, lads. _Without_ the Spanish Inquisition, Liam.”

 

  
Liam flushes a little and turns back toward the game. That seems to make everyone settle as they start a new game. Louis can feel Harry’s eyes on him as he plays against Niall, both of them getting very involved and loud.

 

Liam has gone back to his room, something about getting ready for the semester starting soon. Zayn is smoking out on the balcony and the look he’d shot Louis earlier clearly meant an ultimatum.

 

They stop playing at around two in the morning, Niall happily passed out on the floor and Zayn barely hanging on by a thread of consciousness. Louis knows the only reason he hasn’t gone to bed is because he wants to have that chat today.

 

Harry gets up from beside him and stretches out his back, Louis keeps his eyes fixed on the screen.

 

“I think I’m gonna go sleep at mine.”

 

Louis looks up at him questioningly, why does Harry want to go to his home and sleep in his bed? Then, he repeats that in his mind and realizes how stupid he’s being.

 

“Yeah, course. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

 

Harry looks a bit disappointed but it’s gone in a flash before he wishes him goodbye and walks out the door, closing it gently behind himself.

 

His eyes fall closed the second the door shuts, lungs fold around a long breath. It’s been three seconds that Harry has left and he can feel his fingers itching for a touch already. He’s never been clingy but for some reason he can’t get enough of Harry.

 

Zayn clears his throat behind him and Louis startles because he’d thought he was alone, that Zayn was already asleep. When he turns toward around, Zayn is already up and walking toward his room,

 

“In my room, Tommo.”

 

He sighs loudly before switching off the telly and putting the controllers in the box under the coffee table. He shakes Niall awake and sends him to his and Liam’s room before going to Zayn’s.

 

When he walks in, Zayn is already on the bed with a lit joint between his lips. Louis can’t help the snort, but he knows just as well as Zayn does that he’s not ready to have this conversation sober. Probably never will be.

 

“Close the door, Lou.”

 

He obediently closes the door behind him and opens the window a little wider to get the smoke out before Liam smells it and chews them both out for smoking weed. Zayn holds up the covers as he settles in next to him, pulls the sheet up over his chilly skin from the cold gust of wind blowing in through the window.

 

“You alright?”

 

Out of all the people that have asked him this today, Zayn is the only one who even remotely understands what he’s asking Louis. Or just how deep he could be hurting and how not okay he could be.

 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just needed to be alone for a bit.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Zayn hands him the blunt silently and lets him take two drags before taking it back. Louis feels the smoke curling through his throat, making his head a little lighter.

 

“Was about Harry, wasn’t it?”

 

Louis should know better by now, he should know that Zayn sees more than anyone else even though he choses to be quiet and keep it to himself. He just nods his head, because lying to Zayn has never really worked for him in the past.

 

“You need to tell him, Lou. He’s a nice bloke, doesn’t deserve to be led on. And I can see he fancies you. Maybe you do--”

 

“I already told him.”

 

Well, he sort of did. He said that they were mates and he’s hoping that Harry got the message that Louis can’t give him more.

 

“What’d he say?”

 

“He knows.”

 

“‘Cuz he’s a nice kid, Niall told us he’s had it rough for a while. And Niall, he’ll kill you if you hurt Harry. I will too, you know.”

 

Louis lets out a surprised laugh at Zayn’s chivalrous effort at being protective over Harry. If only he knew that Louis would cut his own arm off before hurting Harry.

 

“Oh, changing sides so soon? You’ve only known him a day.”

 

“As have you and yet you woke up curled up in his arms.”

 

“I fell asleep while talking.”

 

“You know I’m not against you being close with him, you know that. It’s how close, because I know you fall fast, Lou. I’m just worried that you’ll _ruin_ _him_.”

 

He’s standing up next to the bed before Zayn has even finished talking because how dare he imply that Louiswill ever do anything to hurt Harry, that he will ruin Harry? How fucking dare he?

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, mate.”

 

He can’t help the bitterness in his tone. He’s a little wobbly on his feet, his thoughts are a little scattered but he will not stand here and let Zayn talk shit.

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

That’s all Zayn says, no apologies and no sugar coating. This is why Zayn was the one Louis had shared everything with, because he knew if anyone could cut through the bullshit and be straight with him it’d be Zayn.

 

He settles back down next to Zayn and takes the blunt from him.

 

“You and I both know that you’re not ready to commit. And you’ll end up hurting him if you’re not careful, Lou. I’ve seen the way you look at him, and the way he looks at you. It’s all or nothing mate, with him it’s all or nothing. And you’re not ready for all.”

 

It’s true, every word Zayn has just said is true. He knows it, there’s no way he could give Harry what he wants if he ever asks Louis.

 

“I know, Zee. I know.”

 

“Then make sure you don’t lead him on. I don’t want to see the kid hurt.”

 

He nods his head silently because he can’t even try to put into words how much he doesn’t want to hurt Harry, doesn’t want to be the reason Harry ever feels like he isn’t enough.

 

Zayn pulls him into his chest and Louis goes willingly. These middle of the night chats about unpleasant things always leave him feeling cold and lonely and Zayn always holds him down like an anchor.

 

At some point he drags himself out of Zayn’s bed and into his own. He thinks he hears someone sobbing in the distance but his brain’s too fuzzy to form thoughts so he pulls the pillow over his ears and falls asleep.

 

***

 

He can feel the heaviness in his gut, that feeling that something bad is about to happen. After all the fuck-ups in his short life, Harry knows to trust his gut.

 

He’s just walked back to his flat, after the entire day spent next to Louis. Except for when Louis pushed him out of his lap, and walked away with a poor excuse. He’d just sat there feeling helpless till Zayn told him that Louis needs space sometimes, that he walks out on them some days too.

 

He’d taken Zayn’s word for it, sat there watching the film while keeping his eyes focussed on the door too. But Louis hadn’t come back for hours, finally Harry had given up pretending and gone to sit down on the stairs waiting for the lad to come back.

 

He had sat there and thought why after just one day of knowing this boy, he had him given this much power and control over himself. Why Louis could affect him this much. And the answer he’d gotten wasn’t pretty.

 

He’d pushed that part down, muffled that voice in his head and smiled at Louis the moment he’d come back. And he’d told Louis exactly how he felt, told him he didn’t like to be pushed away and Louis had promised he’d never do it again.

 

As much as he’d wanted to lean forward and kiss Louis, he’d held back. Even tried to push Louis’ arms away as he tried to curl them around Harry. But in the end, he’d given in. And he had a feeling that he would always give in when it came to Louis.

 

And as he’d sat on the floor next to Louis losing every game of FIFA, he’d buried the one thought that kept circling his mind. He had sat there and laughed till he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. He was hoping Louis would come over with him, sleep next to him even after what he’d told Harry but he didn’t.

 

Harry had kept the mask on, smiled and wished him goodbye before letting it slip when he was alone. He knew it was late but he dialled Gemma anyway as he lay in his bed, stark naked and shivering.

 

“Harry? Are you okay?”

 

He feels bad for worrying her, she’s had to deal with enough of his problems that he feels almost guilty about calling her.

 

“I’m alright, Gem.”

 

“You don’t sound so good, Haz. What’s it?”

 

He takes a deep breath, wills his voice to stay steady as he breathes in. Gemma would try to drive over if he can’t convince her.

 

“I’m good, just needed to talk to you. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

 

“No, I was watching telly. Why’re you up so late, anyway?”

 

“I was at Niall’s. His roommates are nice, one in particular.”

 

He can practically hear Gemma sitting up with an evil smirk on her face now that she’s about to get blackmail material out of Harry.

 

“Oh?”

 

“His name’s Louis, he’s the one that was in my bed last night.”

 

“The one that jumped through the wrong window? This is some destiny shit, Haz.”

 

“Yeah. I uh--we’re good mates too. It feels like I’m talking to you, he’s just as sassy.”

 

“Now I’ll have to meet this boy. Have a little sass off, maybe. See who deserves to be your best mate.”

 

“He’ll have you beat, I’m sure. Plus, he already is. My best mate, I mean.”

 

“Harry, you’ve only known him one day. You need to slow--”

 

“He said it, not me. I feel like I’ve known him years, Gem.”

 

“That’s good then. Niall called me earlier about him, just so you know. Said you two were hitting it off, just be careful Haz.”

 

“I am. He’s nice, you’d like him.”

 

“I’m sure, if you like him and Niall sounds like he’s in love with him, then I’m sure I would.”

 

He bites his tongue about how he might love him too. And how Louis had pretty much told him that they were just mates, probably never more. And how Harry really wants to kiss him.

 

How the only thought in his mind for hours has been how he wants to kiss Louis. Can only think about his lips, his tongue and all the little noises he’d make when Harry curled his fingers in his hair and pull. How he’d moan when Harry kissed his neck, his collar bones and bit down on heated skin. How Louis would bite down on his lips to muffle the moans from escaping--

 

“Haz?”

 

_Right. Sister on phone._

“Yeah, I’m here.”

 

“Please tell me you’re not--”

 

He knows what she’s about to ask. If Harry’s already fallen for Louis, and that’s a conversation he’s not ready for so he cuts her off.

 

“I told him about dad. About him leaving.”

 

Gemma’s silent on the line because she knows how important and hurtful this topic is for him. She’s been the only one he’s talked to about this, because she’d lost a father too. But she’d been old enough to handle it well. He, on the other hand, had blamed himself for months before he’d let it slip in front of Gemma.

 

She’d sat him down and drilled into him that their father leaving was in no way his fault. He believed her for the most part but even now he’s sensitive about this topic.

 

“You did?”

 

“I felt like it was okay, like I wanted to.”

 

“That’s good, Haz. I’m glad you can talk to him about this.”

 

He can hear the wariness in her tone, can sense her hesitance.

 

“It’s alright, Gem. I’m okay now.”

 

They talk about her work for a bit, and about their mum handling herself well back in Cheshire now that Robin was there to make sure she didn’t burn herself out on work. Gemma tells him to take care, he could hear every hidden bit of concern in that but all he said was okay before wishing her goodnight.

 

It’s not his fault, he knows. Their dad left because their parents made a mutual decision to split. He knows this.

 

And yet he can’t help but feel like it was his fault, a little bit. Like it’s his fault that people don’t stick around. That he loses his friends, like those people he was so close to back in New York. For almost a year and now no one ever calls or texts.

 

He goes to sleep quietly, trying to forget about strangers who used to be familiar faces. His mum tells him he talks in his sleep, cries sometimes but he never remembers.

 

***


	2. I wanna shelter you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting on the first chapter, I really appreciate it. The back-and-forth pining is starting now so strap on for the angst-fest. Also, Dean's making an appearance this chapter, hope I've got him in-character!

The next few days pass by in a blur, they’re all trying to prolong the free time before they have to return to killer class schedules and back-breaking part-time jobs. Niall is watching some stand-up comedian on the telly and alternating between laughing at his and Louis’ jokes, Liam seems to be obsessively looking up his classes and making up a time-table.

 

Zayn is lazing on the sofa with a comic book in hand, nobody is even going near him. Louis had warned him yesterday to never disturb Zayn while he was reading his comics  _he will glare at you hard enough to wilt your disney curls into wiry excuses for hair, Harold._

 

Louis is sitting next to him with his laptop on his thighs, lazily scrolling through tumblr. Harry nudges him with an elbow,

 

“Want to hear a joke?”

 

Louis frowns at him but Harry has learned that he’s just doing that to spite him. He actually really likes Harry’s silly jokes. Maybe.

 

“If I must.”

 

“Why did the baboon ask the giraffe why the long face?”

 

“I don’t know, Harold. Why?”

 

“‘Cause he thought his neck was his face.”

 

He can’t even say it properly through the laughter, it’s just so funny. Louis however is looking at him like he wants to wring his neck so Harry tries to calm himself down. When he’s finally stopped laughing, he looks at Louis with a straight face.

 

“I made that up when I was eight.”

 

“Why are you like this, Styles?”

 

He can see Louis trying to stop the small smile from spreading on his face.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Quirky.”

 

He doesn’t know how to take that so he just smiles in response, hoping Louis isn’t making fun of him.

 

“Another one?”

 

Everyone else he knows would shut him down by now, would have yelled at him for being unfunny but Louis exaggeratedly rolls his eyes and then turns towards him with a warm smile,

 

“Go on, then!”

 

He grins in response and tries to think of a good one. He can hear Zayn and Niall groaning in the background.

 

“Why can’t the flower ride his bike?”

 

He can see Louis’ brow furrowing for a second before he asks Harry why. Harry, in his own right, takes a dramatic pause before grinning widely at him.

 

“Because his petals fell off.”

 

He can hear it before he he sees it, Niall and Zayn both getting up from the sofa with loud groans.

 

“Okay that’s it, you need to leave. Out!”

 

“I love you Harry but your jokes are terrible, mate!”

 

He’s still looking at Louis - who’s laughing with his eyes crinkled at the sides- while Zayn and Niall carry him off the floor with hands under his armpits. He just grins back at Louis, lets them carry him to the door.

 

Louis calls him five minutes later just as he’s starting dinner in his own flat. He can’t help but smile stupidly at the screen before picking up.

 

“Miss me already? It’s only been four minutes.”

 

“Actually I do, Harold. You making anything for dinner?”

 

“Yeah, I was thinking pasta.”

 

He can hear Niall cheering through the wall and then there’s a knock on his door two seconds later. Niall is standing on the other side, Liam and Zayn behind him with sheepish looks on their faces while Louis is notoriously missing.

 

“Harry, you there?”

 

He looks down at his phone confusedly, as the other lads push him aside and get into the flat.

 

“Lou, where are you?”

 

“I’m just getting my footie gear out of the laundry, need it first thing tomorrow.”

 

He’s already started walking toward Louis’ room and finds him searching through his laundry basket.

 

“You didn’t tell me you played.”

 

Louis startles a bit at his voice but straightens just as soon, turns around to face him with a huge grin plastered on his face.

 

“I play for the uni. team. It’s first practice tomorrow for the year, you’re welcome to come.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, Niall is usually the only one who cares enough to come to every game but Zayn and Liam come sometimes too. So, you can tag along if you want.”

 

“I’d love to see you play.”

 

He thinks he sees Louis fluster at his words but it’s gone within a second so he ignores it and walks back to his flat to make pasta, Louis in tow.

 

***

 

He’s shaken awake at an ungodly hour by Zayn. Wait, _Zayn? Zayn’s up?_

 

“Zee?”

 

“Get your big bum up, Lou! You’ve got to go chase a ball down the field or whatever the fuck it is you do at the arse crack of dawn.”

 

Oh, right. Footie. But how is Zayn up? Zayn, who doesn’t even talk until the clock hits noon. Arguably, he’s looking down at Louis with his eyes closed but he’s up, nonetheless.

 

“Why’re you up though?”

 

“Harry’s been calling non-stop on my phone, that annoying giraffe bitch!”

 

“Why’s he--”

 

“So I can wake you up cuz you won’t answer your phone, Niall’s passed out from drinking and Liam’s already gone to the fucking gym. Now, go away and don’t talk to me!”

 

He gets into the shower still half-asleep on his feet but the water helps wake him up cuz it’s set on motherfucking Antarctica because Liam doesn’t believe in hot showers.

 

“Fucking David Beckham wannabe...”

 

He mutters while clinging to the far wall as the water warms up slower than Harry talks.

 

“This is going to be a long fucking day.”

 

Which is the understatement of the century because he gets out of the flat still a bit sleepy with wet hair and his kit on to find Harry sitting outside with his head resting on the wall behind him as he snores lightly. Long, long day. Cursing inwardly, he reaches down to the sleeping boy and gently shakes his shoulder.

 

“Haz?”

 

Harry springs awake from his touch and looks around baffled, when his eyes stop on Louis he settles back down.

 

“Hey Lou, good morning.”

 

“Morning. What’re you doing here, Hazza?”

 

Harry gets up off the floor and Louis’ eyes rake down his long body to settle on his legs, he’s wearing a pair of track pants. He’s even got a water bottle sticking out of his backpack.

 

“Waiting for you, we’re going to the football field, right?”

 

He’s actually got a water bottle and a backpack. He’s up at an ungodly hour and waiting for Louis outside his flat. What is this boy made of?

 

“It’s five in the morning, Haz. I won’t mind if you go have a sleep, yeah? We can go some other--”

 

“But I want to come.”

 

“Are you sure, I mean it’s early--”

 

“It’s alright.”

 

He can only shake his head and start walking with Harry beside him. It’s a short trek from their building to the football pitch and as they get close, he can see other players making their way inside too.

 

“So, I’ve got to go cleat up. You can go to the field, there might not be other people there but you can talk to Coach Winchester. He’s usually nice but try not to tell him any of your jokes.”

 

He runs away before Harry can hit him for saying that, the boy is looking at him with a sad frown as he walks away ignoring the tug in his chest to go over and make it better. They’re not five year olds and he is not responsible for making Harry smile every second they’re together. He’s not in charge of Harry and his smiling, end of.

 

***

 

He shuffles his feet while waiting for Louis to come out of the locker room. He was right, there is no one on the field bar a tall man who is standing next to the goalpost yelling into his phone. Judging from his tracksuit and the whistle around his neck, Harry reckons it’s Coach Winchester.

 

He tries not to stare and keeps his eyes from wandering toward the figure but it’s sort of hard when you’re the only two people on an empty football field. The man finishes talking on his phone and starts walking toward him.

 

He remembers Louis telling him not to say any jokes so he keeps his eyes on the ground, because he’s sure if he opened his mouth the only thing coming out would be ‘knock knock’.

 

“You’re not here for the tryouts, are you?”

 

It would be rude not to reply now that the man is standing so close to him and asking him a question. The second he does look up though, his voice gets caught in his throat. It’s just that Coach Winchester is _very attractive._

 

He’s a bit taller than Harry himself, his body a lean line as he stands with squared shoulders and a straight back with legs planted firmly in the grass. His green eyes are bright in the sunlight, dark stubble lining a strong jaw and Harry might be salivating.

 

Louis’ coach. Right.

 

“Uh, no. No, I’m just here to see my mate.”

 

Coach Winchester seems to be doing a detailed scan of his body as well, his eyes slowly raking down Harry’s body and it makes him fidget.

 

“And what mate might that be?”

 

He doesn’t sound like he’s from around here, his accent is like a thin blanket covering years of another way of speaking. Probably American, Harry reckons.

 

“Louis, Louis Tomlinson.”

 

Coach’s eyebrow arches in a very impressive way, almost competing with Zayn’s. His expression softens immediately and Harry wonders how much of it is because this man loves Louis’ game.

 

“He’s a good one. Do you play yourself?”

 

“With my knowledge and understanding of the game, I feel like I should be a lot better at football. But it’s a blessing if I can go five minutes without faceplanting, so.”

 

“You’re one of those.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He can’t help but lower his head in shame especially since this man coaches a university team and would probably judge everyone by their ability to kick a ball. And Harry would be in the last two at least on that list.

 

“Well, that’s alright. Maybe Louis can teach you a couple things.”

 

He looks up to find Coach Winchester smiling at him, although it’s more of a grimace than a smile but at least he’s trying. So Harry flashes him one of his dimpled grins.

 

“Jesus kid, warn a guy. You must be quite a charmer with the ladies.”

 

He’s shocked that Coach Winchester actually stepped back a bit after he smiled, as if not expecting Harry to smile at him. He looks a little like how girls in high school used to look like when Harry smiled at them. Girls, right.

 

“I actually don’t charm ladies that much or like that.”

 

Why is he telling this virtual stranger these things? He hasn’t even discussed his sexuality with the lads yet and here he is telling Louis’ football coach that he prefers boys. Where is his brain-to-mouth filter?

 

“Good on you, people take lifetimes to figure out what they want. You’ve gone good for yourself.”

 

That’s the last thing he was hoping to hear from Coach Winchester, and yet the man is looking across the field with almost a forlorn look on his face after saying those words. Like, he would be one of those people that take a lifetime to figure out what they want. Harry has no clue what to say.

 

“Knock knock.”

 

Oh shit.

 

Coach Winchester turns around to look at him with furrowed eyebrows and a clenched jaw. Then, his features soften within a second. Harry has a feeling that this man's face is a constant litany of changing expressions as he goes through emotions in micro-seconds, he'd be an interesting person to be around.

 

“Who’s there?”

 

“Hula.”

 

“Hula who?”

 

Harry’s already grinning when the man finishes, but it takes Coach a second to realise what he’s said and when he does he looks like he’s going to chase Harry off the field.

 

“Be glad I leave my gun in the office, kid.”

 

Harry is equal parts scared and amused, this is the first time someone with a gun has threatened him after a joke but he can also see the Coach suppressing a small smile. So, he guesses it’s alright.

 

“Sorry, Coach.”

 

“I’m Dean, but Coach Winchester works better. What’s your name, Louis’ mate?”

 

“‘m Harry.”

 

“Well Harry, as long as you don’t tell me any more bad jokes, we should be fine.”

 

“Yes, Coach.”

 

He lowers his head as the team starts piling onto the field and Coach Winchester blows his whistle 0.3 inches away from Harry’s ear before jogging over to the team.

 

It’s a slow practice day with most people just running drills and by the time they actually start to play, Harry has lost all sensation in his legs from standing up for so long and is now sitting on the bench sucking on his water bottle while scrolling through his twitter.

 

A ball lands near his feet and he looks up to find Louis standing there with his hands on his hips, sweaty shirt clinging to his heaving chest as he stares at Harry.

 

“You know you can go home, right? There’s nothing interesting happening today.”

 

“It’s alright, I’m having fun.”

 

Louis raises his sweaty brow at him and Harry is absolutely mesmerized by how much sass is contained in that one little move.

 

“You’re on your phone.”

 

“I was watching the game plus Coach is really nice, we’ve been talking a bit.”

 

“Coach Winchester? He’s nice?”

 

“Yeah, I told him a joke and he said he had a gun. But other than that, he’s nice.”

 

Louis just sighs loudly and walks back with the ball. Harry pulls his eyes away from his sweaty back and thick thighs, it’s quite a struggle but he manages.

 

“Do us a favour, just tell him.”

 

He snaps his head around so fast, it hurts. Coach Winchester is sitting next to him on the bench with a pained expression on his face.

 

“What?”

 

“How you feel about him, just tell him. It’s always better that way.”

 

_No. No, this isn’t happening. This man who doesn’t even know him does not see through his charade. No, it can’t be._

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking--”

 

“I can see your heart-eyes across the field, son. I’m surprised he doesn’t.”

 

And that’s his cue to have a panic attack. His lungs swell around not enough air, tongue and throat going dry as he tries breathing but it doesn’t happen, his chest is heaving and vision gone blurry as he tries to rake in any air he can. He can feel Coach Winchester’s hands on him, telling him to calm down but it’s not like those are the magic words that make it okay.

 

He forces his eyes open and finds Coach kneeling on the ground in front of him, counting his breaths and telling Harry to breathe with him. In, out, in…

 

“I’m sorry, that hasn’t happened in a while.”

 

“It’s alright.”

 

They sit there silently looking at the empty field. He’s still controlling his breathing, trying not to get dizzy with extra long breaths. He hasn’t had an attack in months, years even so this one was absolutely out of the blue.

 

“Are they done?”

 

“Yeah, they’re changing.”

 

He just nods his head and sits there silently. Doesn’t know what to say to this man who’s just seen him have a panic attack, helped him through it and who knows he fancies his best mate.

 

“I can see his heart eyes too, y’know.”

 

His neck protests as he whips around again to look at Coach Winchester with wide eyes.

 

“Wh--what?”

 

“Just talk to him, son.”

 

He pats Harry’s shoulder lightly before walking away, he feels himself leaning into the contact a little. It’s been a while since he’s been honest with someone about this part of himself. In the week and a half he’s known Louis, no one knows the extent of his feelings for the boy.

 

Even Harry isn’t sure himself.

 

He does know that he’s falling in love with Louis with every passing second. And now Coach has implied that Louis might return his feelings. He wonders how well Coach Winchester knows Louis. But then again, he could tell how Harry feels.

 

And if Coach Winchester can tell in just one meeting, what about the other lads who see him everyday. What about Louis who spends almost every waking hour around him. Oh god, what if he can tell too and is just being nice so as to let him down easy.

 

Oh god--

 

“Harry? You alright?”

 

He startles with a hand heavy on his chest, heart beating wildly under his palm as he looks up to find Louis.

 

“What’s wrong, love?”

 

He just shakes his head and smiles at Louis, tells him he’s alright.

 

“You’re not alright. Let’s get you home, it’s the sun probably.”

 

He doesn’t bother correcting Louis as they walk home in almost silence. Louis keeps asking him if he’s alright but he nods every time and tries to keep his thoughts from showing on his face.

 

_‘You’re pathetic. He’s just your mate and you’re gone on him. He probably sees it too, all the lads do but they just keep quiet so they don’t embarass you. God, you’re so obvious.’_

 

He doesn’t like the stupid voice in his head but he can’t stop it either. So, despite Louis’ protests he goes to his flat and lies down. Doesn’t answer any of their calls or texts, ignores when they knock on his door and locks the window.

 

Louis tries coming in through the window but Harry lays in bed with his back to it pretending to be asleep and after knocking on the glass for five minutes, Louis goes away.

 

***

 

Harry’s been holed up in his flat for a full day now, all efforts of calling him or texting or knocking on his door have gone unnoticed. Niall is pissed because he thinks it’s his responsibility to keep Harry safe, and now that the boy hasn’t even come out of his house in a full day, Niall is absolutely losing it. Zayn actually caught him pulling his hair out in frustration in the bathroom.

 

Liam is going through his textbooks for the term already even though classes haven’t started yet, and every once in a while he comes out with a frown on his face and asks if Harry’s okay yet. Zayn’s been pinning Louis with curious looks even after Louis told him he doesn’t know why Harry’s being like this.

 

In all honesty, Louis almost feels sick with worry. He was the last one to see him yesterday after they had walked back from practice, and he had noticed Harry looking a little pale but he hadn’t thought it was this bad.

 

More than anything though, it feels like withdrawal. That’s the thing that fucked him up most. Realizing that not being around Harry for a couple hours is actually making him feel like he’s in withdrawal. Like Harry’s a fucking drug and he’s addicted. After just two weeks of knowing him.

 

So yeah, he’s laying in his bed with the quilt pulled over his head as he thinks about what he’s done. In just two weeks, he’s let Harry in. And now here he is, being miserable because he hasn’t seen the boy for a few hours.

 

“Oi, Tommo! Get up, you sod. There’s a party tonight at Aiden’s and we’re going.”

 

Niall jumps up on the bed and pulls the covers down, Louis actually feels like he’s coming out of a cave as the bright bedroom light almost blinds him.

 

“I don’t feel like going out, Niall.”

 

“Would you feel like going out if I told you Harry’s coming?”

 

Niall’s face is actually lit like a 500 watt bulb right now, Louis does not want to think why that might be. Maybe Niall’s not as oblivious and aloof as Louis likes to think, maybe he does see things happening around him. Maybe Louis is not as good at hiding his attraction towards Niall’s cousin as he thought he was.

 

“Did he come out yet?”

 

“What’re you talking about, that boy’s been chasing cock since he was fifteen.”

 

He can’t help the little shudder that runs down his spine at Niall’s words. Of course, in theory, he had known that Harry wasn’t strictly straight but now he has confirmation, more than that even. He ignores the strange unsettling feeling in his gut at the mention of Harry chasing people. Other people. Yeah, whatever.

 

“You know what I mean, Niall.”

 

“He did leave his nest, yeah. Taking a shower now so you should get ready too. Liam is almost done and you know how he gets if he has to wait.”

 

“ _Whiny bitch_ , you mean.”

 

Niall winks at him but leaves the room without saying anything. Louis almost wants to barge into Harry’s flat and ask him why the fuck did he pull that stunt, no matter that the boy would be naked in his shower right now. Shut up, brain.

 

But then again, after he walked out on Harry that second day he has no right to question his actions. Plus he’ll have plenty of time to make up for the past day when they get plastered, so he jumps into the shower. His fingers itch towards his half hard cock but he resists, well he tries.

 

It’s been a while since he’s wanked so he takes a hold of himself and strokes hard and fast, without closing his eyes, afraid what he might see if he does. It doesn’t help really because he does end up thinking about long fingers and puffy lips anyway.

 

But Louis isn’t anything if not adamant so he convinces himself that the person he imagined while gripping his throbbing cock and coming hotly over his fist, biting into his other hand to keep the moans quiet was that pornstar from that website he goes to regularly and not his best mate.

 

***

 

Harry doesn’t feel like going out but it was Gemma yelling through the phone and threatening to come over that convinced him to agree to Niall’s offer. He does miss them, even after just one day, he misses all the lads terribly.

 

All their silly jokes, video games, vegging out on the sofa with mouthfuls of junk food. God, he misses being around all that carelessness - except Liam - and not giving a fuck.

 

But most of all he misses Louis. Being around him, just being.

 

Now that he’s been told that his pretending skills are not as good as he’d thought and that his pining over Louis is transparent enough that a man he met for a few hours could tell how gone he is, he’s not sure he wants to be around Louis.

 

And this party is just going to make it worse. Harry has never been able to hold his alcohol, has always been teased about being a lightweight and he doesn’t need to guess what he’d be doing if he got pissed tonight.

 

Niall’s banging on his door just as he gets out of the shower and if he knows his cousin, Niall won’t stop knocking till he's let in, so he goes to the door with a towel around his waist and water trickling down his chest.

 

“Woah! You’ve grown up, Hazza! Is that a six-pack? Holy shi--”

 

He pulls Niall in by the arm before everyone in the building stops in front of his door and stares at him like he’s a piece of meat. Having Mrs. Robinson from across the hall stare at him last week while he was doing yoga on the terrace was enough.  
Niall just grins at him and wiggles his eyebrows as Harry closes the door behind him.

 

“I didn’t know you had such a killer body, Harry. Well good thing, all the boys will be falling over to get to you at the party.”

 

Harry just rolls his eyes at Niall before going to his bedroom to get changed. He would huff or protest about Niall’s statement but it’s not like he could tell him that the only boy Harry wants is his best mate who also happens to be Niall’s mate and roommate.

 

So, yeah.

 

Niall is rifling through his kitchen looking for beer or something so he silently dresses up in his skinny jeans and button-up shirt after getting them out of the still unpacked suitcase. Come to think of it, he’s only worn his loose-fitting home clothes ever since he moved here since the suitcase with the jeans and shirts is still unpacked. And putting on jeans and a proper shirt for the first time in two weeks actually makes him feel like maybe he's not just wasting away his days.

 

Niall lets out a slow wolf-whistle when Harry walks out of his room, shoes in hand.

 

“You’re my cousin, Niall. And you’re straight.”

 

Niall doesn’t seem fazed at all by what Harry’s just said. Well, Niall doesn’t really seem fazed by a lot of things so it’s hardly surprising that the boy looks like he couldn’t care less.

 

“But I’m not blind, Hazza. And neither am I opposed to appreciating beauty.”

 

Harry’s hands still on the sock he was pulling up, eyes settling on Niall.

 

“I’m just messing with ya, mate. That’s not to say that you won’t have multiple prospects tonight.”

 

“Prospects, Niall? What am I, _Elizabeth Bennet_?”

 

“I don’t know, you could pull a good Lizzie Bennet with those curls and the pretty eyes. And you’d rock a dress so well, with the cleavage and all.”

 

Harry just shakes his head and continues putting his shoes on. He can tell by the wink Niall throws his way that he’s only teasing about the three undone buttons of his shirt with the butterfly tattoo teasingly peeking out the smallest bit.

 

“Let’s just go before you start talking in Victorian English.”

 

Niall only grins at him, beer bottle still clutched tightly in hand as he leads Harry out and holds the door open for him,

 

“After you, m’lady.”

 

Harry just rolls his eyes and pulls Niall along, Liam and Zayn are both waiting outside their flat and they smile at Harry when they spot him.

 

“There you are, Hazza! Alright?”

 

He nods his head at Zayn and walks to stand closer to him. Liam is looking like he wants to punch a hole in the wall, only he’d never do that because that’s reckless. Louis is nowhere to be seen and if Harry had to make a guess he’d say that Louis is still inside the flat getting ready or something and that’s why Liam looks like he’s going to hulk out.

 

“Why the fuck is he taking this long? Is he making the hair dryer from raw plastic? Why the fuck--”

 

The door opens behind Liam and Louis steps out. A very well-dressed Louis with his braces, tighter than ‘Kim Kardashian’s dress’ jeans rolled up at the ankles and his collarbones deliciously peeking out of his wine red shirt. God, Harry is so lost he almost misses what Louis is saying.

 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Payne. ‘S not like Victoria Beckham is waiting for you at the party!”

 

Liam’s scowl deepens even more when Louis throws a glare his way before coming to stand in front of Harry. Louis’ gaze settles heavily on Harry’s face and he can feel his skin heating up.

 

He tries turning to Niall or Zayn for help but he finds the corridor completely empty behind him, his traitor mates have walked away and left him alone with this Vogue model glaring daggers at him.

 

“You feeling okay now?”

 

He only nods meekly because he doesn’t trust his mouth to form comprehensible words right now.

 

“Were you sick?”

 

He shakes his head and looks away because Louis looks hurt and Harry is not going to give into this urge to comfort him.

 

 _‘You’re transparent as shit, remember?’_  his brain helpfully supplies.

 

“Well, as long as you’re okay.”

 

Louis walks away with the words drifting behind him and Harry’s left standing in the corridor staring at Louis’ retreating back before he jogs and catches up with him.

 

“I’m alright, thanks Lou.”

 

Louis doesn’t even acknowledge him, gives no indication that he’s even heard Harry. And then just before they step inside the taxi the boys are already seated in, Louis turns around and whispers to him.

 

“I sat outside your window for four hours. Thought you might need me.”

 

He can’t even lean down in time after hearing that, hits his head on the roof of the taxi and it bulges a bit. The other boys are looking at him worriedly, Niall keeps touching his forehead and saying he’s got a bulge. Frankly, Niall looks like his kid has fallen down a swing and got a scar on their forehead and he’s a worried mum.

 

Liam keeps telling him they should stop and get an ice pack to put on his head. Zayn is darting looks between Harry and Louis. And Louis, well Louis is staring outside the window with a clenched jaw.

 

Harry feels a throbbing in his head, but it’s a dull pain in the background as he stares at Louis the whole ride to the party. It’s not like he can help it, Louis’ words are playing on a loop in his head.

 

***

 

It’s loud. The party is very loud, the house is full of pissed teenagers everywhere and the lads are all spread out. Harry is tipsy and he almost rams into a tiny blonde girl while walking toward the kitchen and then ends up on the floor because his foot slips.

 

Okay, so a little more than tipsy.

 

  
In his defence, Louis has been ignoring him all night. He’s off to god knows where and even when Harry does see him, he turns around to whoever he’s standing next to and starts doing hand gestures like he’s explaining quantum physics to them.

 

  
Liam is sitting outside still nursing the same beer he was two hours ago. Zayn is planted on the sofa with the stoners surrounding him and Niall is doing shots in the lobby for the sixth time or so. And Harry, Harry is drinking like a cat. A fish? Fish.

 

  
He’s drinking because he doesn’t want to feel like a liar anymore. In the last 24 hours or so, that’s all he’s felt. Like a liar, a cheater. Because he feels this way about Louis and yet he’s pretending he doesn’t. It’s not fun, hiding things from your mates. From your best mate.

 

He was walking toward the kitchen to get another shot but somehow he’s ended up on the sofa sandwiched between Zayn and a bloke who looks like he hasn’t shaved since 1996. Said bloke hands him something, Harry takes it.

 

  
His subconscious mind registers that it’s a blunt. His subconscious mind also warns him not to take a drag but he does it anyway. It’s really strong, and he almost coughs but he had that dark phase in Sixth Form where all he did was smoke weed and get laid so he knows what he’s doing.

 

  
The craziness goes on around them, he and the bloke - Ed - become good mates given their shared love for music. At some point, they’d started talking about starting a band, just the two of them and calling it _White Eskimo_ or alternatively, _Heinz_ , because Ed loves ketchup and Harry agrees that ketchup is essential so maybe they will call the band _Heinz_ after all.

 

  
Niall comes around at some point and gets him and Zayn to go with him. Ed salutes Harry and tells him he’ll find him when he’s ready to start making music. Harry’s a bit unsteady on his feet - more like a newborn giraffe on ice - but Zayn seems perfectly sober even after sitting with the stoners for hours.

 

  
Niall’s got a very strong grip on his arm so Harry just goes with him, his eyes wandering all over the room to take in the people dancing around him. More like stripping right where they are and being two seconds away from mating right there.

 

  
It takes him a second to focus his eyes after Niall lets go of his hand, he blinks furiously and finally feels well adjusted to open them. When he does, he finds Louis standing in front of him with his bright eyes and his beautiful curves and those stupid collarbones. Harry gets the vague feeling that he shouldn’t be staring at Louis like this, shouldn’t even be close to him right now but all that flies out the window when someone pushes him from behind and he ends up plastered along Louis’ front.

 

  
Louis’ arms are around him in a second, holding him in place and the contact is searing through his thin shirt. Harry pulls Louis closer with his hands on his tiny waist and starts moving them both in rhythm with the music. Louis is tense against him but he slowly gives in and moves even closer.

 

  
They’re both uncoordinated, stepping on each other’s feet and elbowing people around them. The song is a weird choice for a party like this, too slow for there to be any kind of dancing - not that the people around them care about the songs as they grind over anything that moves.

  
Then someone takes pity on them and the song changes to a fast rhythm with sharp ups and downs and Louis turns around and brings his back to settle against Harry’s chest and he pulls his huge hands around Louis’ dainty waist.

 

  
 _This is a development._

 

  
This is more than a development because Harry’s stoned mind can’t even comprehend what’s happening right now. Louis is moving nimbly against him, edging on frisky. His lithe body twisting this way and that, Harry can feel him everywhere - it’s like Louis’ trying to touch every inch of him and he’s succeeding pretty well.

 

  
Everyone else around him is lost in their own little world, Niall and Zayn are in the corner rocking against each other with no space between them, so Harry takes in a deep breath and pulls Louis closer against him with his hands on his hips. Lost in the thrum of hazy disco lights and fast beats, Harry lowers his hands down Louis’ waist and grips his thick thighs, the muscles rippling under his fingers and he can feel them flexing even through Louis’ jeans.

 

  
He is hard, unbearably so, in his jeans and it doesn’t help that he can feel Louis wiggling against his hard cock, the bulge of his arse pushing back against Harry’s crotch as he moves along to the music. With every flick of his hips, Louis nestles against his throbbing cock and Harry is so fucking close.

 

  
His hands grip Louis’ thighs even tighter, his mouth close to Louis’ ear as he traces his earlobe with his tongue and Louis shudders against him and arches his back beautifully before pushing back against his cock again.

 

  
Louis’ hand curls around his hip and it must be an awkward angle for him - having to reach back behind him - but his short nails dig deep into Harry’s skin as he grinds his arse against Harry. His own hips stutter in their rhythm when Louis grips his hip possessively and rests his head back on his shoulder as his thin lips part in a silent moan.

 

  
At this point they’re thrusting against each other, bodies moving in a sensual haze with Louis almost leaning entirely against Harry’s body. His eyes are closed as he feels Louis everywhere, his hand on his hip and his other hand entwined around Harry’s curls pulling insistently and god he is so far gone. He’s moaning as Louis tightens his grip on his hair, eyes slipping closed and he’s almost--

 

  
Left standing alone on the dance floor as Louis pulls away and in a sad attempt to hold on, Harry’s hands reach out toward where Louis is standing with his arm in Zayn’s grip. He’s looking at Harry with wide eyes like he can’t believe where he is when just moments ago he was grinding shamelessly against him.

 

  
Zayn walks away when Louis turns slightly to give him a look, and Harry thinks Louis is going to come back to him and curl up around him again. He doesn’t.

 

  
“Come outside with me a second?”

 

  
Harry can see the uncertainty in Louis’ eyes and he knows he’s about to be rejected. He can’t even hear his heart breaking over the need to please Louis and follow him. Louis doesn’t stop walking till they’re outside and away from the bonfire set up in the backyard. When he does finally stop, Harry looks up to find an empty yard around them with no drunk students lurking about.

 

  
Louis is standing against the wall of a garden shed, looking up at Harry through his dark lashes sweeping over eyes that shine brightly in the moonlight. Harry digs his nails into his palm to stop himself from reaching over and touching, not sure he’s allowed anymore.

 

  
“Harry...”

 

  
And that’s it. Just that one word, just like that all his childish desires come crashing down on him. He can see in Louis’ eyes what he’s about to say and he could save himself the torture and just walk away but he’s a masochist to the core so he stays and listens.

 

  
“I’m not--I wasn’t, huh. Look, I know what happened in there and I don’t--”

 

  
He wants to put Louis out of his misery, tell him he knows what he’s going to say but some sick part of his brain takes over and he steps closer to the mumbling boy and pins him to the wall. He knows Louis can feel his hardness digging into his thigh but he stays right where he is.

 

 

“You don’t what? Like this? Because from where I’m standing you definitely like this.”

 

  
Louis shudders against him, his hands coming up to grip Harry’s biceps as he rolls his hips against Louis’. Louis is hard in his jeans, he can feel the heat seeping through their layers of clothes. He darts down and brings his lips close to Louis’ parted ones but doesn’t brush them together, sharing Louis' air but keeping a hair’s distance between them.

 

  
“Harry, please. I can’t.”

 

  
Louis' words and actions don’t match up, while his words are asking Harry to let go, his fingers are digging into the flesh of his biceps almost painfully as he keeps his hips pressed against Harry's, and his eyes are pleading but Harry can’t tell if they’re pleading for him to let go or to hold on.

 

  
“You can’t what?”

 

  
Louis just shakes his head, his sharp teeth biting down on his wet lower lip as he pushes half-heartedly against Harry’s chest.

 

  
“I can’t do this, just please. Let go.”

 

  
He knows he should, at this point Louis has verbally told him to get off so if he goes any farther it’d be forceful but just the way that Louis is still holding onto him - with his fingers curled into the front of his shirt - has him pushing against Louis.

 

 

“You look like you want me to kiss you, Lou. Do you?”

 

  
Louis’ eyes slip closed and for a second Harry thinks I’ve got through to him. He won’t deny me again, he won’t deny himself again. But just as he’s about to lean down and brush his lips against Louis’ like he’s been dreaming about for weeks, Louis pushes against his chest.

 

  
This time, hard enough that Harry trips over his feet and almost stumbles to the ground. His hand shoots out wildly to grip onto something but ends up flailing about helplessly before he finally finds his balance, and all the while Louis just stands there against the wall with wide eyes and a heaving chest never making a move to help Harry.

 

  
It’s this that makes Harry step back, flinch when Louis raises a hand out to stop him and it’s the look of hurt that flashes across Louis’ eyes when he takes another step back. It’s the fact that Louis has the audacity to look sad when Harry steps away from him, after Louis has just gone and broken his heart.

 

  
He turns around and walks away, ignoring Louis’ calls of his names. His feet are running before he even knows what’s happening, only realizes there’s tears streaming down his face when the cold wind cuts across his wet cheeks like a sharp glass slicing through skin.

 

  
He’s been in London all of two weeks so he doesn’t even know where he is or where he’s going, and he hadn’t even paid attention when they were in the taxi because he was too busy staring at Louis. And just like that, another choked sob slips past his lips at the memory of Louis telling him he’d waited outside his window for four hours.

 

  
 _Why would he say that, why would he do that if he doesn’t feel anything for me? Why was he like that at the party if he isn’t attracted to me? Why did he lead me on, danced with me like that and then pushed me away? Am I not good enough?_

 

  
He finally gets home three hours later after he recognised the Tesco’s across the street from them and dragged his feet on the gravel in a bid to put as much distance between himself and Louis and for as long as he could. He does have to go home though, his fingers are numb and probably blue by now and his feet freezing in his shoes.

 

  
When he gets inside, he finds the corridor dark and eerily silent. The lights are off in the lads’ flat and Harry rushes into his own flat before he runs into them coming back, he could do with a night alone to think his doubts and tears away.

 

  
***

 

Someone is shaking his shoulder hard enough to dislocate it and he is going to yank their arm out as soon as he can open his eyes and wake up. He tries to push away the person while blearily opening his eyes but the person seems to have stepped away and why is the world so fucking bright?

 

What year is this? Is he in a hospital, why is it so bright? Is he dead and gone to heaven?

 

“Lou, will you get up already?”

 

That sounds like Zayn, so not dead then. Good.

 

“Hmmgh.”

 

“Are you getting up or do you want me to get Li?”

 

Okay, that’s uncalled for. He’s trying to wake up, why is Zayn being a tool and threatening him like this? He snaps his eyes open and sits up - anything to avoid getting lectured by Liam first thing in the morning - and then immediately regrets that decision when his head starts throbbing in a perfect rhythm with that Arctic Monkeys song, the one heavy on the bass.

 

“Oh my motherfuck--”

 

“Here.”

 

He silently takes the advil and glass of water being offered to him before settling back against the headboard with closed eyes. The curtains are open and it’s definitely Liam’s doing, that little shit. He’s about to ask Zayn to close the curtains when the lad starts talking.

 

“D’you remember last night?”

 

He wants to say no and go back to bed but something in Zayn’s tone makes him snap his eyes open again and stare at the lad with open curiosity.

 

“What happened?”

 

“You don’t remember anything?”

 

So he’s definitely forgetting something major, if the crease of Zayn’s furrowed brow is anything to go by. Especially since he’s up before Louis and here asking him these questions.

 

“Zayn, I don’t--”

 

“Remember what happened with Harry? You two--”

 

And cue hazy flashbacks from last night that look like a bad print of a second-grade film behind his eyelids but just as he’s about to snap at Zayn for talking in puzzles, he remembers something.

 

Dancing, with Harry. Clinging to him and pulling him close and feeling him spread out against his back--oh fuck.

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Yeah. You uh, I stopped you before it got too far and you looked like you were going to talk to him outside so I left.”

 

He remembers it now, pinned to a wall while Harry stood plastered to his front with his arms on either side of Louis’ head and his hips insistently grinding against his own. He also remembers pushing Harry away from him because he could hear Zayn’s voice in his head telling him it’s all or nothing with Harry and he isn’t ready for all.

 

He remembers hurt flashing across Harry’s face as he’d stood there staring at Louis, remembers Harry flinching away from his touch and and that of all the things makes him slip his eyes closed and hide his face in his pillow, which he finds is wet against his skin.

 

“You came back a while later with your eyes swimming with tears and telling me you pushed him away.”

 

He keeps his lips pressed closed even as he feels Zayn shifting closer to him and carding his fingers through his hair.

 

“You did the right thing, Lou. He’d have gotten hurt otherwise.”

 

He knows Zayn is right, believes he did the right thing but there’s a fist clenched around his heart and he can’t breathe properly because Harry’s face from last night keeps flashing behind his closed eyelids.

 

He lays his head down in Zayn’s lap for a bit, staring idly at the opposite wall with a blank face.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this as I go so, anything that's good and I should keep doing? Anything not good?


	3. We're different and the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this isn't going as well as I'd hoped but what can you do. Anyway, thanks to those who are reading even though this is really just a self-indulgent fic for myself where I've written every trope I like. Cheers! 
> 
> PS- The dialogue 'Are you serious? No, I'm cereal' is a text post I saw on tumblr, it's not my own. Due credit to the OP.

Zayn stirs him to startle out of the light sleep he’d dozed off to, thoughts of green eyes and mesmerizing dimples lulling him into oblivion. Zayn's looking at him with wide eyes brimming with sympathy and Louis remembers that last night wasn’t a dream, _it actually happened._

 

He gets up and walks to the bathroom with a pat to Zayn’s shoulder to let him know that he’s alright. He finds himself standing under the hot water with a hard cock but he resists touching himself by clenching his fists and turns the water cold. If he’s shivering by the time he gets out, he tells himself he deserves it for hurting Harry.

 

As he’s walking back to his room, he finds Niall and Liam perched on the sofa with Harry seated between them as they all stare at the telly. He rushes towards his room before they spot him, Zayn is absent when he gets back, he gets dressed and pulls his laptop close so he has an excuse for not being with the others.

 

There’s a knock on his door some ten minutes later, Niall pokes his head through the doorway and raises his eyebrows questioningly at Louis.

 

“You’re up?”

 

Louis is not in the mood for banter, certainly not when he’s hiding out in his room trying to delay the inevitable confrontation waiting for him in the lobby.

 

“No Niall, I’m sleeping and blogging while asleep.”

 

“Don’t be like that, Lou.”

 

He just shakes his head at Niall who seems unperturbed by his sarcasm and comes and crashes on his bed anyway.

 

“How’s the hangover?”

 

If he winces and it’s because of Harry, Niall doesn’t need to know. He probably thinks it’s because Louis’ head hurts or something, which isn’t very far from the truth either.

 

“It’s alright, Zayn got me advil.”

 

“Isn’t he a sweetheart? And then there’s poor Harry who looks like shet!”

 

He knows he should probably not say anything, definitely not say what he’s about to. But well, Louis Tomlinson does not have a brain-to-mouth filter.

 

“Is he alright?”

 

Niall looks up from his laptop with a confused face, and it takes him a few seconds to realize what Louis’ asking.

 

“Is who--oh, Harry! He’ll be alright, needs some sleep. Looks like he’s been through a war or summat, you’d think he hasn’t slept in days when we know he slept the whole day away yesterday.”

 

He only nods his head, what else could he even say? Niall keeps talking about Harry and Louis doesn’t make any effort to stop him.

 

“--looks like shit. I had to drag him out of bed this morning, he wanted to stay holed up in his flat again. God, that kid can be a hermit if he wants to be. I remember when he was all outgoing and cheery as fuck, that year in New York really fucked him up but even before that. I mean when his dad left, he just sort-of put up walls around him and the problem with that is he’s an extrovert and it doesn’t fit well with his hermit-tendencies. God, Gemma has been so worried that he’ll go back to being how he was when he just got back from New York.”

 

Louis thought he couldn’t feel any guiltier about his actions last night, couldn’t feel worse about leading Harry on and then pushing him away but here is. Niall looks more serious than Louis has ever seen him, he looks like he’s so worried about Harry that he’s going to cover him up in a security blanket and never let anyone come close to him again.

 

And Louis is the person Niall should be protecting Harry from. Knowing this, he can’t help the wave of self-hatred that washes over him. God--he wants to run away from here, where there are people he keeps hurting without meaning to.

 

“Niall, what--uh what happened in New York?”

 

“I don’t know, mate. He never told anyone, not even Gemma. I just know that when we saw him at the airport, he looked like he was going to hurt himself the first chance he got. We were so worried, I remember telling Gemma that I thought he was fourteen again. Looked like that kid again who’d just had his father walk out on him.”

 

He’s hurting himself with how hard he’s gripping his thigh under the quilt. It hurts where his nails are digging into the flesh, even more so because he can feel Harry’s phantom touch on his skin from last night.

 

He’s just gone and pushed away someone who’s biggest fear is probably people walking away from him.

 

“So yeah, that was a tough couple months. Remember when I had that bad week back in July? That was ‘cuz Harry went away without telling any of us and we were worried sick. He called the third day, said he was with a mate but even then we were all worried. That’s why Gemma and I told Anne we wanted him to be here in London, close to both of us.”

 

“He doesn’t--like, he doesn’t seem like he would be a loner, y’know? I mean, he’s been very open with us.”

 

“Yeah, and that’s the only reason why Gemma isn’t here everyday. He’s gotten so much better after he came back from wherever he went back in July. I didn’t even recognise him when I first saw him two weeks ago, he’s changed so much. And now, today, he looks like he might be slipping back.”

 

“Is he outsi--”

 

“He’s gone back to his flat now, said he had some things to take care of.”

 

Louis just nods at Niall and looks away.

 

“Well, I’ll leave you to your tumbling. Just wanted to make sure there weren’t two zombies living with us. You look like you could use a little air, I might be going to Tesco’s with Harry later. Feel free to tag along.”

 

He waves Niall out of his room with a smile on his face.

 

***

 

As much as he doesn’t want to go, the fridge is empty and through his own fault so he needs to go buy things to make food. It’s mostly because he’s been eating over at the lads' rather than making it in his own kitchen and also feeding five people is vastly different than just one scrawny body so no wonder the only things left in his kitchen are things he doesn’t want to eat but bought because they were on sale or because he thought he might like them after a miracle or something.

 

So yeah.

 

He had told Niall he needed groceries and Niall had volunteered to come along and pay half (it’s from the food fund that we all put money in so we don’t starve, it’s very efficient, Harry) since they all eat what Harry cooks.

 

He hadn’t had the heart to tell Niall that he might not be cooking in their flat anymore. That Louis might not let him come back to the flat. But that thought had been cut short when he’d seen Louis coming out of the shower this morning and rushing back to his room, completely ignoring Harry.

 

So Louis wasn’t going to tell Harry he wasn’t welcome in his home anymore, he was just going to avoid and ignore him.

 

That might be why Harry forced himself to stay, even though he wanted to run as far as possible, to see if Louis would come out of his room and talk to him. And when he hadn’t, Harry had got up and made some excuse about chores to do and ran out of there.

 

And here he is now, curled up in bed ignoring Niall’s texts and calls telling him he’s ready to go. He can actually hear Niall distressing in his flat through the thin wall, but he needs a minute to find the courage to tell Niall that he won’t be cooking food for them anymore.

 

That he’s going to maintain a distance from the lads, and not be over in their flat every waking moment. He doesn’t expect Louis to tell them, doesn’t want Louis to have to tell them. So, he breathes in and out a couple of times and then gets up to go tell Niall.

 

With his jacket on and scarf in hand, he opens the door to find Louis standing there with his hand in the air like he was about to knock. It’s enough of a shock that it takes him a moment to look away from Louis’ wide eyes, takes him a moment to remember what happened last night and steal his eyes away.

 

Louis lowers his hand and just stands there silently. It isn’t until Harry looks up at him again that he talks.

 

“Can I come in?”

 

He wants to say no, wants to say something bitter like ‘oh you’re not ignoring me anymore, good to know’ but he bites his tongue and steps aside to let Louis in. He takes a moment to let himself breathe as he closes the door, when he turns around he finds Louis standing next to the sofa and looking at Harry with warm eyes.

 

There’s such a stark difference between how Louis’ looking at him now than how he had looked last night. It’s almost like looking at a different person, this one approachable and the Louis he knows when the man last night had pushed him away and stood there with ice cold eyes.

 

Harry doesn’t even know what to say.

 

“Harry, I need to talk to you about last night. Look, I--we’re good mates, yeah? You’re my best mate, believe it or not. And I just--huh.”

 

Harry wants to help him out but he is so, so done with all this. Can’t even stand here anymore and listen to all this but he does just because it’s Louis. And because he might be in deeper than he ever thought possible in such a short period of time.

 

“What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. I’ve made things complicated and I don’t want them to be. What happened was stupid of me, I was drunk and I did something I shouldn’t have.”

 

He almost doesn’t ask, almost chokes on the question and stands there silently. Almost.

 

“Which part?”

 

Louis pulls his eyes away the second the words leave Harry's mouth and that’s all the answer he needs. He turns around and is about to walk out of the flat when he feels a hand gripping his wrist. Louis’ fingers are freezing against his skin, they’re digging into his skin and he stops where he is.

 

“I’m not looking for a relationship, neither am I ready. And you, you’ve just gotten to London. I remember when I first got here, wanted to explore everything. You should be living it up and getting new experiences and I’m not the person for that, Harry. But I can’t have you mad at me, can’t have you leaving me. I need you back, Haz. As a mate. I need you back and the lads need you back, just like we were before.  _Please? "_

 

Louis’ voice breaks on the last word, the uncertainty in his tone makes Harry want to turn around and wrap his arms around the boy. He wants to pull him closer, wants to kiss him and wants to hold him but Louis’ _begging him to not._

 

He’s asking Harry to forget last night and to go back to pretending. He doesn’t want to but he also knows that he wants Louis and he needs Louis and if this is the only way he can have him in his life - as a mate - then sure, he’ll lie and pretend everyday.

 

In the last two weeks they’ve come far enough that he knows he can’t lose Louis, so if the only way he can keep him is as a mate then he’ll do whatever Louis asks. Just to have him in any way that Louis allows.

 

“Okay.”

 

Louis’ grip tightens around his wrist but he refuses to turn around and let Lou see his eyes fluttering shut from the pressure on his wrist. He refuses to let Louis see the effect he has on Harry.

 

“Okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

Louis pulls him into a hug and he goes willingly. If this is how his life is going to be from now on, pretending that he doesn’t want Louis to be writhing underneath him or clinging onto him or waking up next to him everyday, then so be it.

 

“Thanks, Hazza. God, I was so worried. Thank you so much, you’re the best best mate ever!”

 

Louis can’t see the self-deprecating smile on his face as he stands with his arms around the boy’s smaller frame.

 

“Okay, let’s get to Tesco’s now. Niall is going to eat Liam if he doesn’t get lunch soon.”

 

He nods his head and locks the flat behind him before following Louis out of the building. It’s natural to fall back into the old rhythm with Lou, so easy to pretend last night didn’t happen even though he can see marks on Louis’ neck that he made. His fingers itch to reach out and press on the bruised skin, to see if he will whine.

 

Instead he shakes his head and pushes his shoulder against Louis’ before running away. Louis is running behind him threatening him about cutting his hair while he’s sleeping and cursing at him _you fucking giraffe, get back here_

 

Louis catches up to him in the parking and then proceeds to shove him around repeatedly, as payback. A few people are staring at them as they behave like five-year olds shoving each other on a playground.

 

They’ve finally settled down and Harry is pushing the cart - because Louis kept running it over his own foot and then cursing - while Louis walks ahead of him pulling useless things into the cart that Harry has to put back _because we don’t need bendy straws, Lou. Or that many crisps._

 

They’re in the cereal aisle when they have the argument. Louis wants to get two boxes of Coco Pops and is not letting Harry buy granola.

 

“Oh come on, Harold! That’s not even cereal, it doesn’t even have any taste! You might as well put a handful of dirt in a bowl of milk.”

 

“It’s healthy, Lewis. Not like your box of cholesterol and heart-disease with a side of diabetes!”

 

“At least it doesn’t taste like my Nana’s hair!”

 

“How do you know what your Nana’s hair tastes like?”

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“No, I’m cereal.”

 

Louis’ hand stops mid-gesture before he lowers it down to facepalm with a loud groan that echoes around the entire place.

 

“Why are you like this, Harry?”

 

He sounds exhausted and just generally done with everything but his face betrays the frustration in his voice. A tiny smile is threatening to spill any second and he ducks his head to hide it but Harry catches it pulling on his thin lips anyway.

 

“You knew I was like this when you married me. And now that I’m pregnant you’re just looking for a reason to run away from the responsibility.”

 

Louis is trying so hard to not laugh, his face is red from the effort and that just makes Harry want to keep going. Also, people are stopping to watch their little exchange and he just heard someone gasp loudly behind him but he struggles to keep his face straight as he pokes his finger at Louis’ trembling chest.

 

“I won’t raise this kid alone, Louis. I refuse to let this baby come to this world unloved and without a father. So don’t you dare fight with me about this. Granola is healthy for the baby and I’m getting granola!”

 

“Do whatever you want then, I don’t care. You’re always so adamant, this is why my Mum told me not to marry you. You’re such an old hag, Harry!”

 

“Oh I’m an old hag now, am I? What happened to ‘you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Please marry me and make me the luckiest man alive.’ Huh? What happened to that?”

 

“You happened! I wish I’d listened to my mum and married someone who wasn’t a psycho like you are!”

 

“I’m a psycho now? Why didn’t you think of that before you got me pregnant? You’re not getting out of raising this baby by fighting me in fricking Tesco!”

 

“Yeah, you are a psycho. I should’ve just married Eleanor, at least she isn’t mental.”

 

“You’re such a bastard, Louis. I bloody hate you!”

 

“Yeah? Well, I hate you too!”

 

He wishes he could keep this up, but just the faces of the old people who’ve stopped to watch their banter - god, their faces. They look like they’ve witnessed the second coming of Christ while they stare wide-eyes and open mouthed at Louis and him. So, he absolutely loses it.

 

And Louis’ not far behind either, he’s leaning against the shelf and laughing with his head thrown back. It takes Harry a moment to get himself composed enough, after wiping the tears away from laughing so hard, and when he does look up Louis is already looking at him with the brightest smile Harry’s seen on him and that’s how he knows that they’re alright.

 

They are going to be just fine.

 

***

 

They got out of Tesco after rushing through the self check-out and getting only whatever was in the cart, because people were staring at them after the little stunt. So they ran out and got into a taxi to lug the groceries home, laughing all the way back.

 

Niall snatches the bags from them the second they walk through the door and Harry’s left frozen mid-step with his hands still curled like they were around the bags that are now on the floor where Niall’s sifting through them.

 

Louis is standing beside him pointing to his face and laughing,

 

“Look at his face! You scared him, Niall. He looks like he’s gone into shock.”

 

Niall looks up momentarily and offers him a small smile before going back to digging through the groceries. He feels Louis’ hand on his shoulder and turns to look at him.

 

“It’s alright, Harold. Next time you’ll know to expect it. Niall snatches the groceries as soon as you walk in through the door 'cuz he needs to take inventory of the food.”

 

He shakes his head and follows Louis to the kitchen, Zayn is on the sofa with a comic book in hand. He looks up when Louis ruffles his hair but goes back to reading dismissively. When Harry walks by, his head snaps up. Louis and Zayn seem to be having some secret conversation while he looks for the pan to make the dressing for fajitas.

 

Within a minute, Louis is back by his side cracking jokes and making silly faces as he dices up peppers.

 

Niall is still doing his food inspection when Liam comes back from the gym with a very perturbed expression on his face. Harry looks at Louis with raised eyebrows but the boy just shrugs at him so Harry turns around and asks Liam if he’s alright.

 

“Yeah, yeah I’m--there was just something--I was at Tesco’s just now and there were these old ladies talking about these two boys who were fighting. But like, not a normal fight? It’s really weird.”

 

Everyone seems to be paying attention to Liam's rambling now, Niall is looking up at Liam curiously and Zayn is listening intently while Louis is sniggering next to him and Harry doesn’t know what to say or do.

 

“What do you mean not a normal fight?” Zayn pipes up from the sofa with a confused expression on his face.

 

“Apparently, they were fighting because one of them was pregnant and the other one wanted to leave him with the baby. I didn’t know that was possible.”

 

Niall is rolling around on the floor cackling while Zayn’s got his head tilted to the side like he’s thinking about something. He shakes his head at Liam,

 

“Of course it’s not, Liam. It’s anatomically impossible, they must be messing about. Probably off the rocker or summat.”

 

Harry tries not to break under Zayn’s disapproving gaze he can feel on his face but Louis losing his shit next to Harry is not really helping.

 

“But why would someone even say that? I mean the old lady was just so--like, she said those boys were fighting like a married couple, why would anyon--”

 

Liam’s words get cut off when Louis falls off the kitchen counter next to Harry because he was laughing so hard he lost his balance. Harry can’t keep it in any longer so he’s right next to Louis on the floor with his hand covering his mouth trying to hold in the seal barks.

 

Zayn just shakes his head and goes back to his comic, Niall is still laughing while Liam seems to be finally processing and as if a light bulb goes on above his head, he turns toward Louis with narrowed eyes.

 

“Why the fuck do you do this, Louis? Why can’t you ever just be serious? Why do you have to be a joker all the time? In fucking Tesco's, no less!”

 

If he wasn’t next to Louis and looking at him, Harry would’ve missed the flash of sadness and anger on Louis’ face as he hears Liam’s words. He’s left wondering just what is Louis hiding behind his pranks and his silly faces but he never gets the chance to ask as Zayn stands up from the sofa.

 

“That’s enough, Liam.”

 

Liam seems taken aback for a second before he turns around to face Zayn.

 

“No Zayn, that’s enough for him. You always defend him, but he’s going to have to grow up someday.”

 

“Liam, go take your gym kit off. Harry’s making fajitas for lunch. This conversation is over.”

 

This is the first time that Harry’s seen Zayn take charge like this, it’s so different from his usual tactic of not caring and just being uninvolved. And the lads react almost immediately, Niall gets up off the floor and puts the grocery bags on the coffee table and Liam walks away towards his room.

 

Louis sighs next to him before getting up and offering him a hand. Harry takes it, and somehow his eyes end up getting stuck on Louis’ face who offers him a huge smile but Harry can tell that it’s not real. He doesn’t know how he can tell, when he became an expert on Louis’ smiles but he knows this isn’t real.

 

He also knows that it’s not a good time to bring it up, Niall is now on the couch next to Zayn with his fingers curled around Zayn’s shoulder almost as if he’s calming him down. Liam’s bedroom door slams shut loudly and the noise makes Louis jump, so Harry just puts a hand on his shoulder and doesn’t mention that his smile is fake.

 

No one mentions it.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone out there reading this thing?


	4. Couldn't you offer me, a little dishonesty?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the angst.

Uni. starts on a dark and dreary Wednesday morning and Harry is done with higher education by the time he gets out of his first class. It’s not like he didn’t know what to expect, he had spent the last year at NYU, it’s just that uni’s so different here in London.

 

His professor was some old white man who apparently didn’t believe in equal human rights and didn’t approve of technology. Harry almost told him to go back to the dark ages where he wouldn’t even be alive right now because there would be no medicines to keep his black hatred-filled heart still beating when he’s probably a hundred years old.

 

But he kept quiet. Just.

 

His other classes weren’t as soul-sucking, he found. Prof. Davis was the only old, misogynist, sexist and homophobic git he had for an instructor. The rest of them were actually good people, they even smiled sometimes. Oh, the nerve of them.

 

The professor Harry liked best was his Mythology teacher. His name was really weird, well he went by Jimmy Novak in the Course Syllabus but in class he said that that was his pen name. His actual name was Castiel.

 

Castiel. Just that.

 

The girls in the class were all drooling while staring at their very attractive professor, Harry could appreciate the young professor’s beauty. His clear blue eyes were piercing, Harry could think of someone with a similar haunting gaze.

 

Anyway, so profesor Novak - you can call me Castiel while in class - was Harry’s favourite professor. He seemed very passionate about what he was teaching and he was so knowledgeable too. Like, Harry could have any questions about Mythology no matter how vague or far-fetched they may be, the professor would always have an answer ready.

 

Even outside class, Harry e-mailed professor Novak pretty much every other day with interesting things he read in one of the books Prof. Novak lent him or just emailed him at odd hours asking him questions. And the professor never turned him away, instead he always encouraged Harry and even got into discussions with him.

 

So safe to say, within two weeks of classes Harry was almost always walking about with his nose buried in a book about mythological creatures. The rest of the boys had gotten used to hearing about Norse mythology and celtic symbols at random moments by now. Louis wrinkled his nose at the mention of Professor Novak and even after Harry asking him twice, he just shrugged it off as _‘not a fan of the wishy-washy types, Haz.’_

 

Other than his Mythology classes, there wasn’t much to keep his attention for long. His classes were going well, he was working part-time at the bakery on-campus and making enough to pay off rent. And when he wasn’t at uni. or at work, he was almost always at the lads’ flat. In fact, he was there so often that somewhere along the way he had started referring to it as home.

 

Gemma had come around to his flat twice since the beginning of semester and found him in Niall’s flat both times. She had met all the boys and liked all of them, even though she did act a bit hostile toward Louis. But that situation was resolved quickly after Harry had reassured her that he and Louis were doing great.

 

Which is true. After the party, they hadn’t talked about that night even once and Harry had almost forgotten about what had happened. Well, that’s not true but he is trying. At any rate, he and Louis have fallen into their rhythm again. They’re even better mates now and the rest of the boys just roll their eyes when the two of them curl up on the sofa during movie nights or team up during food fights or impromptu footie games in the complex parking.

 

Two months of knowing each other and it feels like they’ve always been a part of each other’s life. It’s almost impossible to think of a time when they weren’t best mates. The boys have accepted that Harry and Louis will always be in the same team and that anything you tell Louis, Harry will automatically also know. It’s _HarryandLouis_ now, even when one of them is not around, it’s still the two of them together by default.

 

One person who isn’t pleased with this development is Coach Winchester. Harry and Louis living in each other’s pockets means Harry going to Louis’ every single football match and every practice he can make it to from classes and work. And this means Coach Winchester being subjected to knock-knock jokes whenever Harry’s around - which is _‘too many days, Styles. Too many damn days.’_

 

In the beginning, Harry had tried to sit on the bench with his head bowed and his lips sealed in a bid to keep his eyes from wandering over to Louis and his subsequent ‘heart-eyes’ as the Coach had said, but around the third time Coach had walked over and told him to stop moping. He had even sat next to Harry for the entire half-time break and started asking about his classes.

 

He had still threatened him and mentioned his gun when Harry had told him another knock-knock joke but he gave up around the fifth day and now Harry actually looks up silly jokes on the internet just so he can tell them to Coach and watch his face turn into this expression like he wants to shoots himself just to get away from Harry.

 

But underneath all his pursed lips and frustrated groans, Harry knows that Coach actually enjoys having him around and even though he makes that sour face, he actually likes it when Harry irritates him with stupid jokes. They’ve gotten to the point where Harry almost feels like a part of the team with the way Coach treats him, even asks him where he was when he misses practice some days.

 

And on match days, he closes his eyes and shakes his head at Harry when he jumps up in excitement or cheers after every pass and goal. Harry doesn’t mind Coach rolling his eyes at him when he looks like a proper cheerleader on the sidelines, because Coach always comes to stand next to him after every game and sometimes even speaks to him during the matches.

 

Today though, he’s tired enough that he doesn’t even try to tell any jokes and Coach is looking at him worriedly.

 

“Are you sick, Styles?”

 

“No, Coach, ‘m just tired is all.”

 

“You teenagers with your drinking and your partying.”

 

“I was actually working late last night and had to help my professor with some research this morning. So, not drinking and partying.”

 

Coach just rolls his eyes and shakes his head exasperatedly, although Harry might argue that the man is just fond of him and this is his way of showing fondness.

 

“I forgot you’re a geek.”

 

“I’m not a geek, Mythology is just so interesting. I love learning new stuff everyday and it’s becoming my favourite subject too.”

 

Harry’s sure that if he wasn’t paying attention he would’ve missed the strange look on Coach’s face at the mention of Mythology. For lack of better words, it looks like he’s constipated.

 

“Are you okay, Coach? You look a bit red there, all goo--”

 

“I’m good. Yeah, good. Very.”

 

Harry’s eyes narrow in disbelief because he’s known Coach for over two months now and this is the first time he’s seen the man look like this. Even during the tough matches, Coach never looks like he’s uncomfortable - he shouts and curses like no one’s business, yes, but never looks uncomfortable. Harry decides to get to the bottom of this.

 

“So anyway, _Mythology_.”

 

Coach steals his eyes from Harry and that’s just too suspicious for him to let go.

 

“It’s a very interesting subject, and my professor is the best. His name’s Professor Novak, you might actually know him since you’re a teacher too and--”

 

Coach Winchester looks like he’s going to combust any second, he’s staring at the ground as if trying to burn a hole directly to hell and his cheeks are definitely red under the scruff. Harry decides to press on.

 

“He asked us to call him _Castiel_ though, and he’s--”

 

Coach stands up the second Harry mentions the name and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say Coach Winchester has quite a sizeable crush on his Mythology professor. His body language is definitely betraying the small frown on his face, he keeps ducking his head and almost stumbles on the strap of Harry’s bag.

 

Dean Winchester is the most balanced and coordinated person Harry has ever seen, he never stumbles. And here he is almost crashing to the ground and fumbling his words,

 

“Yeah, I um, I know him. I mean I know who he is. It’s--he’s a professor here.”

 

Harry is trying to keep a straight face as he looks at Coach - the most feared man on this football field looking like a teenager with a crush on the school jock - but it’s so so hard.

 

“He’s been teaching me for two months now; I know he’s a professor, Coach. Do you not like him or something? I hope I didn’t make you mad by mentioning hi--”

 

“No no, I’m not not not mad...it’s just a teacher thing. I uh--I should get back.”

 

Now, Harry is absolutely certain that Coach Winchester has a crush on his professor. The man’s ears are actually bright red right now, and he is fidgeting, his eyes are darting everywhere but meeting Harry's own.

 

“Okay, take care, Coach. Have a good night.”

 

He’s evil, he knows, but just for the sake of it he winks playfully at Coach and the man almost trips over his own feet.

 

“You you--you have a...ok.”

 

He finally lets out the bubbling laughter he’d been holding back, almost too loud because some of the players look over at the sound of his seal bark. Thankfully, Coach doesn’t stop or turn around. Harry can see the man’s back as he almost jogs towards the locker room and he does feel bad for making fun of Coach like that. He should know not to mock someone’s feelings.

 

As if on cue, Louis walks over to him with wet hair and shirt clinging to his chest. Harry’s convinced someone somewhere is laughing at him and reminding him that he is no position to mock someone’s crush.

 

“Alright, Haz?”

 

“‘m good.”

 

“You look dead on your feet, why didn’t you just go home?”

 

“I was in the Mythology department so I thought might as well walk over.”

 

Louis scrunches up his nose and Harry would ask him why he dislikes Mythology and everything related but he knows Louis will just shrug and walks away so he lets it go.

 

“Saw Coach rushing toward his office just now looking like he was gonna keel over any second. Was he going for his gun to finally shoot you?”

 

Harry just grins at him and keeps walking.

 

“Why are you grinning like that? What have you done?”

 

Louis is looking at him curiously with narrowed eyes but Harry can’t bring himself to tell Louis. After all, Coach hasn’t told Louis about Harry’s feelings either so the least he can do is return the favour.

 

“Nothing.”

 

Louis just scoffs at him and pulls on his shirt from behind to stop him in the middle of the footpath.

 

“You’re the worst liar ever, Harold. Just tell me what have you done?”

 

“It’s between me and Coach.”

 

Louis doesn’t look happy with that response but well, he’s going to have to be satisfied with that because Harry is not going behind Coach’s back.

 

“Between you and-- _what the fuck, mate?”_

Louis doesn’t stop asking until the next week and Harry keeps smiling and walking away every time. If he’s got plans for Coach and his professor to end up running into each other purely on accident, that’s his business.

 

***

 

Harry’s mum is coming around today and he can’t get out of his room because what if she doesn’t like him. What if she tells Harry not to talk to him anymore. What if she decided he’s a bad influence on her son and decides to take Harry back to Cheshire with her.

 

Louis realises he is being unreasonably stupid but excuse him, these are valid concerns. If his mum told him to come back to Donny, he wouldn’t have a choice but to pack up and leave so then why wouldn’t Harry listen if his mum told him to come back.

 

Zayn has tried reasoning with him, but he gave up about an hour ago and left the flat after telling him that he’s worrying about nothing.  
Liam is busy cleaning every surface in the flat, after he spent the entire morning scrubbing the floors. Niall has been gone for over an hour now, he was supposed to go get Anne from the train station and pick up Harry from the bakery on his way back.

 

Everyone is busy so that leaves Louis in peace to lock himself in his room and worry about Harry’s mum not liking him. Which, the other lads don’t care so why should he? Well, he knows the answer to that, it’s just easier to not think about it.

 

Just like it’s easier not to think about Harry’s lips or his eyes or his heated skin against Louis’ own. So yeah, that. He’s still very much gone on Harry, not like he ever stopped, but it’s been getting worse. Especially since Harry hasn’t made another advance on him so now they’re just the best mates who touch each other every second of every day just because they’re that close.

 

It’s been torture to be around Harry these past few months, it’s been so hard to sit next to him when there’s no semblance of personal space between them ever. It’s been fucking hard to stop himself at the last moment when _Harry’s mouth is so close to his own that he could just lean in and--_

 

“Louis! What’re you doing in there? I can smell it, are you smo--”

 

Before Niall can finish that thought in front of Harry’s mum, he rushes out and stops short when he finds Niall and Liam alone in the flat.

 

“Where’s Harry and his mum?”

 

“They’re in Harry’s flat, did you think I’d say that in front of her?”

 

Niall looks a bit hurt at Louis’ unsaid accusation but well, he’s never been able to stay mad at anyone for more than seven seconds so Louis just tosses him an apology before turning around and walking back to his room.

 

“Oi! Where’re you going? Harry said to--”

 

“You lads go on, I’ll be right behind ya.”

 

Niall nods at him and walks away but Liam lingers for a second before offering him a smile. If Louis didn’t know any better, he’d think Liam knows more than he lets on but he does know better and Liam is the most oblivious person ever.

 

As the door shuts behind them both, Louis takes a deep breath and goes into his room. In the dead silence of the flat, he sits down on his bed and allows himself to think and feel freely.

 

He’s fallen for Harry, he knows. He’s trying to get away from it but it’s not working that well, he knows. He can’t give in though, he can’t give in and take Harry down with him, he knows.

 

And even after knowing all this, he still dreams about being with Harry. Still wakes up in the middle of the night hard and leaking after dreams of wet skin on skin. Still has to get up in the middle of films to wank in the shower because Harry wiggled about in his lap.  
He’s an arsehole, he knows.

 

All of that aside, he remembers Zayn’s words. _‘With him, it’s nothing or all. You’re not ready for all.’_

He knows that Zayn’s right and that’s the only thing stopping him from kissing Harry some days, from pulling him towards himself and just brushing his lips against Harry’s like he’s been craving for months now.

 

 _‘It is what it is’_ , he remembers his mum telling him years ago. _‘If you can’t change it, just leave it, love.’_

 

So he gets up, takes a deep breath and walks out of the flat and to Harry’s. In the two seconds it takes for the door to open, he considers turning back but then Harry is standing in front of him with the biggest smile on his face and Louis could never turn away from him so he braces himself and walks in after Harry.

 

“--in the middle of Tesco’s and the people there were so confused. Liam came home looking like he’d seen lions mating or something! It was hilarious, Anne!”

 

Out of all the things he had hoped Anne would hear about him 2 seconds before meeting him, the story about him and her son fighting like a married couple in Tesco was not it. But here he is, in the middle of Harry’s flat frozen mid-step while Harry stands next to him blushing like a newly-wed wife in the 1800s.

 

Anne and Niall are still laughing and haven’t noticed him, and Liam is too busy scowling at Niall to say anything. Louis is contemplating turning around and walking away but just then he feels Harry’s hand on his back guiding him toward the sofa and he’s quite helpless when Harry’s touching him so obviously he goes.

 

“Mum, this is Louis. Louis, my mum.”

 

Anne gets up to walk around the sofa and the first thing Louis notices is how much Harry looks like her. She’s beautiful, and smiles in the same way that Harry does - with everything she’s got. And before he can even form words or say hello, she’s reaching forward and pulling him into a hug.

 

It’s really odd but having Anne’s arms around him, Louis feels like his mum is holding him. Maybe it’s been too long since he’s seen his mum and that’s why it feels like this or maybe it’s how they say that you could have countless people hug you but the warmth of a mother’s embrace is unmatchable.

 

He’s probably losing his mind, that’s most likely happening otherwise he wouldn’t be having these thoughts about someone he’s just met. Anne lets go and steps back a little, but her hand is still on his shoulder and she’s still smiling at him. Behind her, Harry is smiling at him too and Louis is so lost in their blinding smiles right now - their smiles are in serious competition with all the camera glares in the new Star Trek movie.

 

“It’s so good to finally meet you, Louis. Harry never shuts up about you. In fact, Niall is very besotted with you too.”

 

He flushes and lowers his head at her words, god what is with the Styleses making him flustered with everything they say!

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Styles. It’s good to meet you too.”

 

“Alright Tommo, get in! Look at you being all proper with the mother-in-law.”

 

_“Niall!”_

_“Niall!”_

Harry and he shout at the same time, not that it fazes the cheeky little shit - Niall’s loud laughter is echoing through the flat, Liam looks just as confused as ever and Louis can’t even look at anyone right now, this is so unsettling.

 

When he does finally look up from the ground, he finds Harry red as a tomato and staring at his cousin who isn’t even paying him any attention. Anne and Niall are high-fiving and just what is his life right now.

 

“Well he isn’t wrong, boys.”

 

_“Mum!”_

 

Harry looks like he’s going to faint any second, Louis has never seen anyone’s cheeks this red. Well there was that one time when Harry had looked like this on the night of that party when they were both dancing together and-- _Harry looking well fucked is the last thought he should be having while standing in front of his mother. Godamnit._

 

“What? From what I’ve been told, you two are almost like a married couple or is that wrong?”

 

Louis would very much like to shake his head and end this discussion right now but Harry doesn’t say anything in response and that’s all that Louis can concentrate on so no one answers her and Niall takes the opportunity to ruin Louis’ life even further.

 

“See? What’d I tell ya? These two are proper domestic.”

 

Anne just laughs and pinches Louis’ cheek before going to sit down next to Niall on the sofa and asking after his parents. Liam is staring at the far wall in a perfect real-life representation of ‘buffering’.

 

Harry rushes into the kitchen and Louis follows after him because if they don’t talk this out now, it could get very awkward. And he needs Harry to remember that they’re just best mates. He needs Harry to hold back because Louis’ not strong enough to walk away from him again.

 

When he walks in the kitchen door, Harry’s looking for something in the fridge and all Louis can see right now is his arse hanging out of the fridge door and honestly, Louis’ two seconds away from jumping him.

 

“Harry?”

 

He startles at Louis’ voice and turns around as if he’s been caught stealing. Louis would say something if he could get his mouth to form words. Harry’s face is just so, so fucking--he actually looks like he’s got rouge on his cheeks.

 

Louis’ seen his sisters putting on makeup and looking like disney princesses but godammnit they’ve got nothing on Harry Styles--whose cheeks are actually looking like fucking Cinderella and all Louis can do is imagine what he’d look like writhing and spread out under him.

 

“Lou?”

 

Shit. Right, no more thinking of Harry in sexual situations.

 

“Yeah, I uh--your mum’s nice.”

 

“Thanks?”

 

“About what Niall said, I don’t--I mean--”

 

“I know, Lou. He’s just joking around.”

 

Harry turns around and starts digging through the top cupboards. Louis feels a wave of guilt wash over him because he knows Harry’s just turned away so he doesn’t have to face Louis. He doesn’t keep anything there in the upper cupboards but the extra Coco Puffs so Louis can’t reach, so there shouldn’t even be anything there that he’s looking for. Harry’s just looking there so he doesn’t have to look at him.

 

And he can be a gentleman when he needs to be, so he turns around and walks out of the kitchen to leave Harry be.

 

***

 

He’s standing in front of the stove with his arm reaching up into the top cupboard and hand curled around a box of cereal just so he can pretend he’s actually looking for something. Louis knows there’s nothing in that cupboard and Harry knows Louis knows but he can’t bring himself to turn around and face Louis.

 

Not like this, not when he’s still in shock from being reminded harshly and he and Louis can never happen. Not that he didn’t know that, but just for a second as his mum and Niall teased, he thought about what it’d be like to have Louis and to be his.

 

And just like that, it all came crashing down on him with Louis rushing after him into the kitchen to remind him that it can never happen, that he isn’t allowed to even imagine it for a second. Isn’t allowed to blush or let himself feel.

 

So here he is with wet eyes staring down at the stove as the blood running through his veins and his pounding heart reminds him that he doesn’t have the right to feel. His mum and Niall are laughing about something and it’s probably one of Louis’ jokes so he takes a deep breath, puts the kettle on and wipes his eyes before going out and joining them with a smile plastered on his face.

 

“--started sleepwalking and he got into my bed. I pushed him off, and he sat on the floor singing the tune to Jungle Book. Dat was hilarious!”

 

Harry already knows this story of how Louis sleep-walked his way into Niall’s bed once last year but it still makes him laugh. The others don’t seem to notice but Louis turns around at the sound of his laughter, to look at him with concern etched in his features.

 

He walks over and settles down on the sofa beside Louis - if he doesn’t, they’ll know something’s up and he doesn’t feel like explaining why he wants to stay as far from Louis as he can manage - and ignores the raised eyebrow from the boy himself.

 

“What about that time when he ended up in my bed and said, _‘I’d marry you, Harry.’_?”

 

Louis’ smile falters a little but Harry just waggles his eyebrows at him and does a goofy smile to let him know that they’re alright. That he might be dying inside but they are alright.

 

His mum laughing across from them breaks him from the trance he’s in, Louis’ eyes are very captivating especially from such close distance.

 

So, he blinks and clears his throat and turns to smile at his mum. Louis sighs deeply next to him but he’s learned to ignore all these signs by now so he doesn’t let his smile falter.

 

“You seem to be quite the trouble-maker, Louis. Well, I’m glad Harry has found you boys. He could do with some trouble in his life.”

 

He only smiles at his mum because she’s saying this after seeing her son being extraordinarily quiet and closed off for years but what she doesn’t know is that Louis is slowly pushing him back into that shell. Very slowly and inadvertently, but surely.

 

“That’s okay, Mrs. Styles, we’ll take good care of him.”

 

If he looks closely he’ll find something in Louis’ eyes, in his sharp teeth biting down on his lip and in his warm smile as he says those words while staring at Harry but he chooses not to look for any of those things. He chooses to just duck his head and lean into Louis’ arm around his shoulder, just like he chooses to ignore the urge to kiss Louis and to take him to bed every time they touch.

 

“You can call me Anne, Louis. And I know you’ll take care of him, I’m trusting you.”

 

He looks up shocked at his mum’s words because surely she isn’t saying what her words mean, but with a wink thrown at him she turns around and pats Liam’s knee and smiles at both him and Niall as if she meant to say that to all of them.

 

“We’ll take good care of him, Anne.”

 

She gets up and pats Liam’s back once before turning to Niall and asking him to help with her luggage.

 

***

 

Anne leaves two days later with a promise of seeing Louis in Cheshire soon. In the two days that she did stay, Louis absolutely fell in love with her. Well, the kind of love that you feel for your mum.

 

Anne, in response, had accepted him with open arms - even taking his side over Harry sometimes. And in the two days, she had told them so many embarrassing stories about Harry that they could tease him for years.

 

The home-made food was just an added bonus since Harry cooks really well, anyway. But Anne being there meant three proper meals a day for all of them and dessert every night. And she made sure they sat down at the dining table to eat rather than on the floor or the sofa in front of the telly.

 

Louis sat sandwiched between Anne and Harry when they watched the X factor last night and somehow he ended up leaning against Anne and falling asleep on her shoulder. He’d only woken up when Harry'd put him down on his bed after carrying him into the room.

 

And when Anne left this morning, Louis felt like he had known her for years. She kept calling him her other son and that might be why he ended up on the phone to his own mum demanding for her to come down to London next week.

 

She said she might just come down for a visit.

 

***

 

Even two days after Anne left, Louis still can’t get back to his regular routine because thoughts of his own family back in Doncaster keep running through his mind. Student life is hard, he knows and he signed up for it but it shouldn’t be this punishing. He shouldn’t have to go months without seeing his family.

 

Harry finds him slumped down on the sofa when he should’ve been in his psychology class. But instead he’s lying on the sofa with his head buried under Zayn’s giant microphone cushion. Everyone else is at uni. doing whatever it is that they do between classes and jobs but he’s busy contemplating the meaning of life.

 

“Lou?”

 

He lifts his head from under the cushion meekly, trying to see who’s interrupting his introspection and he finds Harry standing next to the telly with his eyebrows raised and eyes wide with concern. Louis almost considers telling him to go away but instead he just lowers his head again and pulls the cushion closer.

 

Harry doesn’t say anything else, just silently sits down next to him and gently rakes his fingers through Louis’ messed up hair. He can’t help but lean into the contact and somehow leaning turns into laying his head in Harry’s lap and curling up with his arms around his stomach.

 

“Are you okay, Lou?”

 

He just nods his head against Harry’s torso and feels his soft sweater brushing against his cheek. Harry fidgets a little against him as if Louis’ movement tickled him, but he stays where he is.

 

“D’you miss your mum?”

 

That catches him by surprise, he pulls away from Harry to look up at him because how does this boy know everything? Harry just smiles down at him and pulls Louis’ head back into his lap without a word.

 

“How’d you know?”

 

As Harry’s fingers curl around his hair again, Louis feels like he’s being lulled to sleep. And Harry’s voice is slow as always when he speaks, Louis thinks he hasn’t been this relaxed in ages as he lies there with Harry’s fingers massaging his scalp in the empty flat dead silent around them for once and bathed in sunlight.

 

“You always tell me how you’re a mama’s boy and I just thought how you must be missing her since you haven’t seen her in months. Plus, my mum coming down probably didn’t help either.”

 

Louis just hums softly as Harry’s fingers trace invisible patterns in his hair, and his stomach flexes rhythmically with each breath behind Louis’ head. He passes out into oblivion at some point, sleepily telling Harry he loved meeting his mum and that Harry should come to Doncaster with him to meet his family.

 

He falls asleep in Harry’s lap imagining what it’d be like to come home to Harry sitting on the sofa. What it’d be like just crashing next to him after back-breaking days, and lying boneless with his head cradled in Harry’s lap as his long fingers twirl around his messed up hair.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song title from Lie to Me: Shane Mack.


	5. Nobody knows you, baby, the way I do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst, and a few bad jokes but mostly angst.
> 
> PS - Title from 'Fireproof' by One Direction, which--they could've warned my poor little heart.

His mum is calling and he has to ignore her again because he’s in the middle of class and she keeps calling for no reason since ten this morning when she should be at work too. Okay well, she’s not calling for no reason. She has a reason.

  
After leaving London last week, she's been chatting his ear off constantly about how he’s found great friends in London. Especially going on and on about Louis and how he is the nicest young man, and he should come along with Harry for a weekend or something in Cheshire.

  
Gemma mouthing off about Harry’s not-so-big-anymore (yeah right!) crush on Louis didn’t help matters because now they both want to match-make. He understands their motivation, he hasn’t had a boyfriend in years after all, so he gets it. He also understands that they worry about him, he hasn’t exactly given them a reason not to.

Packing up and going to New York was a last minute decision and both his mum and Gemma had made it clear that they weren’t happy with him dropping everything and running off to a different continent but he had gone through with it anyway.

  
And even before that, he hadn’t really been the most present person in the last few years. In a bid to keep himself from trusting the wrong person, he had built walls around himself and it took a while for him to learn to trust again. And through all of that time, Gemma and his mum had stayed by his side and seen him at his weakest so now they tend to over-protect him.

  
So really after all of that, this whole get-you-together-with-Louis business should not be a surprise. But alas, the women in his life have managed to shock him once again.

  
In short, after Gemma went and blabbed to their mother that Harry might be harboring more than friendly feelings towards his best mate, his mum’s been like a shark smelling blood in the water. While she stayed with him, Niall had done a great job of reporting his and Louis’ every movement during the past three months to her and that had led to her joking about Louis being her son-in-law. That was just jokes and fun, though.

  
Now that she knows that Harry might actually feel something, she’s been trying to get him to confess. It’s really hard on him because he doesn’t want to lie to her because the last couple of years, he has lied enough to both of them to last a lifetime and he doesn’t want to see the doubt in his mother’s eyes again.

  
Every time she talks about Louis, her voice just becomes so cheerful and light and Harry doesn’t want to yank that away from her either. Doesn’t want to tell her that Louis doesn’t want him, will never want him even though Harry’s already gone and fallen for him.

  
So, he chooses the easy way and lies to her. Tells her he hasn’t thought about this at all, that it’s just a running joke among the lads that he and Louis are like a married couple. Insists that it’s just a best mate thing and nothing else.

 

That was last night. Even though she had seemed hesitant to believe him, she’d agreed not to bring it up again. And then this morning happened.

  
He’d woken up to multiple missed calls from her and was seconds away from calling her back when he saw the text.

  
 _Need to speak to you about hols. And about Louis. - Mum_

  
That text made the decision for him. He texted back saying he was late for class and she stopped calling after that. Until now.

 

His phone vibrates again in his pocket and the boy two rows ahead of him turns around - for the third time - with a frown on his face and Harry apologetically smiles at him again. When the boy turns back to the front of the class, Harry lowers his head onto the desk with a soft thump.

  
Professor Novak is explaining the myths commonly associated with angels and archangels and Harry is really interested except his phone won’t stop ringing. When the vibration starts once again, Professor Novak stops speaking with his hand frozen mid-gesture,

  
“Harry, if it’s something important you can go out and take the call.”

  
He blushes at all the attention directed toward him since everyone in the room is now staring at him. But Professor Novak doesn’t look angry or annoyed, he just smiles encouragingly at Harry and in the end that’s what makes him stand up and walk out of the class.

  
“Thanks, sir.”

  
Professor Novak starts teaching again as the door closes behind him and he catches the tail end of a sentence - _'with a silver blade'._ Reaching for his phone, he curses technology for having advanced this much because he really wanted to learn about angels and yet here he is struggling to get his phone out of his jeans.

  
In his annoyance he doesn’t even check who it is before he lashes out,

  
“Mum, I told you Louis is just a mate. Do me a favour?”

  
“Haz, I’ve got some great--”

  
It isn’t until he finishes speaking that he realizes that the person on the phone isn’t his mum but Louis. In the two seconds that it takes him to cut his words off, it’s all gone. He’s already said it. And Louis’ obviously heard it since he stopped talking too.

  
So now he’s just standing in the empty corridor with his phone clutched in one hand, waiting with baited breath for what Louis will say next.

  
He’s expecting to hear the dial tone after Louis disconnects but instead what he hears is Louis clearing his throat and after the smallest moment of hesitation bursting into a cheerful tone.

  
“We’re going to Paris for hols!”

  
He doesn’t respond for the fear of breaking this delicate moment of false hope that Louis didn’t hear what he said. But he knows that Louis heard, there’s no way he didn’t, so what he’s really doing is waiting for Louis to acknowledge it.

 

“Haz? You there?”

  
Then it hits him. Louis did hear, he’s just pretending that he didn’t. Like all the other times when they lean in too close or when the lads tease them about being a couple. Louis’ pretending.

  
So he has two choices like always. Put his foot down and confront Louis about whatever this is between them that they can both undoubtedly feel. And lose Louis as a mate because he made it clear that he will never want Harry as anything more. Or he can stay quiet like always, pretend that he doesn’t feel it and go on like nothing’s happened.

  
Well, this isn’t really a choice then, is it?

  
“Yeah, yeah I’m here.”

  
“Did you hear what I said?”

  
“Yeah, Paris?”

  
“Yup, my step-dad offered me a vacation package for hols and it’s like, 50% off. The rest of the lads are all going, and I just needed to tell you once before I tell Dan to keep five tickets for us.”

  
Hols in Paris means away from home and away from meddling family members. Plus, _Paris._

  
“Oh, that sounds great. Wow, we’re going to Paris!”

  
“Yeah, baby! Paris for Christmas! So I should say five tickets, right?”

  
“Of course, I’ve always wanted to see Paris on Christmas. Wow, this is great, Lou!”

  
“I know, right? Oh also, I forgot to tell you, since we didn’t do anything on Halloween the Students' Association is doing a costume party on the last day of semester so it’ll be like, party and flight to Paris the next day!”

  
“Oh god, don’t talk about last day. You’ll give me anxiety about finals.”

  
“What’re you talking about, you’ve got like perfect grades. It’s people like me that should be panicking.”

  
“Shut up, I don’t have perfect grades.”

  
“That one bad midterm with the prick professor doesn’t count, Haz.”

  
“Yeah yeah. I was in class, you know? Before you called me 84 times.”

  
“Oh, well I have to call Dan and let him know. Your professor didn’t yell or anything, right?”

  
“No, it was Professor Novak. He just smiled at me.”

  
Louis doesn’t say anything for a moment and Harry almost wants to yell _see? you don’t like him why won’t you tell me why?_

  
But he reigns it in because they need the least bit of awkwardness right now, especially after what he said to Louis just now after picking up.

  
“Okay well, I’ll let you get back to studying about unicorns and werewolves.”

  
“That’s not what--”

  
Louis hangs up without listening to him and it’s a testament to how gone he is on this boy, that it makes him chuckle fondly and shake his head instead of being annoyed that he’s just been hung up on.

  
He texts his mum and Gemma about the hols plans and they both text back immediately telling him no, he can’t go.

  
 _What do you mean you’re going to Paris? - Gemma_

  
_You didn’t spend last Christmas with us either, H. - Gemma_

  
_Harry, I was thinking of inviting the boys over for a day or two. - Mum_

  
He sighs and sends another text to them before going back into class.

  
 _Louis and the boys are all going to Paris. Got the tickets for cheap, I wanna see Paris. Please. - sent_

  
For some reason, they both relent easily then and tell him it’s okay. It isn’t until he’s sitting back in the class that he realises why they said yes. It’s because Louis is going too. And it’s Paris.

  
They both expect Louis and him to fall in love in Paris.

  
Gemma’s next text confirms his suspicion.

  
 _Have a good time in Paris, baby bro. City of love after all ;) - Gemma_

  
***

  
The semester drags on as London gets colder and colder and they have to wear more and more layers as the days drag on. The anticipation and excitement of Paris mixed with the dread and anxiety of finals makes them all a bit twitchy and short with each other.

  
Harry even snapped at Liam last night in the middle of his _‘you should all go to gym and exercise, it’s a healthy lifestyle’_ presentation he does every other day. And just like every other day, they were all ignoring him and just stuffing their faces with junk food when Harry snapped at Liam, who looked like he was going to start crying.

  
“--is good for you. Otherwise, you’ll gain weight and then you’ll have to--”

  
“For fuck’s sake! Not everyone wants to bench press their girlfriend on the first date, Liam.”

  
That was the first time anyone had heard Harry curse, and definitely the first time he was anything less than polite and perfectly civil. And to attest to this, the second he snapped all of the lads just froze. Louis stopped with his finger on the remote, and Niall’s fork was mid-air. No one could tell that there were five people breathing in the room, probably because they weren't breathing.

  
Harry’s eyes were absolutely clouded over by rage and his fists clenched by his sides. If Louis was perfectly honest, he was scared shitless in that moment and judging from the boys’ expressions, they were equally scared.

  
No one spoke for a good minute, Liam just stared at Harry with wide eyes that looked suspiciously glassy. Louis would’ve tried to say something if he wasn’t too scared to even get up and move closer to Harry.

  
For all his dimpl-y smiles and dumb jokes, Harry looked like he was going to start trashing the room any second, Louis had half a mind to snatch the glass vase sitting on the table next to Harry’s hand on the sofa but he refrained.

  
When no one spoke anything for a while, Harry stood up and took a deep breath before unclenching his hands and Liam flinched back. Louis could see hurt flash across Harry’s eyes at the movement, but he couldn’t bring himself to intervene. In the past four months, if he had learned one thing about Harry it’s that if he wants someone to intervene he will ask.

  
“Liam, I’m sorry. I just--I’m a bit stressed about my history final. I didn’t mean to be rude, I’m really sorry.”

  
Liam had just looked at him for a second before he nodded his head and walked back to his room silently. Louis, Niall and Zayn were left still sitting on the sofa trying to keep up with the situation like spectators in a tennis match as their heads moved back and forth between Liam and Harry.

  
Harry closed his eyes as Liam walked away, and just stood frozen on the spot. No one said anything in the pin-drop silence of the flat.

  
“I’m gonna go to bed. ‘Night.”

  
Harry left the flat without even turning to look at any of them and Louis almost got up to follow but something stopped him. Something that reminded him that _Harry’s angry, and you don’t want to be around him when he’s like that._

  
He wishes he could have ignored that voice in his head, but he couldn’t. Niall walked out a moment later so Louis told himself that it’s alright. That’s what he’s been telling himself since last night, that Niall’s gone to help him, it’s alright.

  
So when Harry walks in the door with terrible bed hair and sleepy eyes the next morning, Louis hesitates for a moment as memories of angry Harry flash through his mind. It seems that Liam and Niall have the same problem because for a suspended moment in time, all three of them stop what they’re doing while Harry just sleepily drags himself to the kitchen table and plops down on the chair with his forehead resting on his folded arms on the table.

  
He seems to catch on about the lack of activity and movement around him pretty soon, and the expression on his face is absolutely heart-breaking as he looks up from behind messy curls with wide innocent eyes.

 

“I’m sorry about last night, I shouldn’t have snapped.”

  
Louis surges forward without realising what he’s doing and brings his arms around Harry’s hunched shoulders. His wide green eyes dart to Louis’ face with shock, he’s tense before he relaxes in Louis’ arms and lays his head on his shoulder and rubs his curls into Louis’ skin.

  
“It’s alright, Hazza. You’ve got dark circles, poor baby.”

  
Harry tilts his head even more to nuzzle into Louis’ neck, before he looks up at him with a huge pout on his face and nods his head. His bottom lip is jutting out like that kid from Despicable Me and Louis is two seconds away from pinching his cheek. So he does.

  
“It’s just one more final, Haz. Then we’ll be partying and going to Paris.”

  
The way Harry’s pout disappears as his lips stretch into a grin, it reminds Louis of the first day he had met Harry and fallen in love with his bright smile. It’s literally like the sun shining from behind the clouds, the way Harry’s features change from the frowny pout to reveal dimples and sharp teeth.

  
Louis has to physically pull himself back before he leans forward and kisses him or does something equally stupid. But goddammit, Harry’s so beautiful. _How are Liam and Niall just standing there and not falling to their knees in front of this magnificent creature, this angel of God?_

  
Okay, so he might need tea. He hasn’t woken up yet and being this close to Harry is doing things to him without the shit-load of caffeine that’s usually in his veins by now and stopping him from making stupid decisions.

  
They end up going to the library to study for their finals. Well, the others study while Louis people-watches because he’s already done with his end of terms. Harry has been buried in his books for hours - his nose is literally touching the page, that’s how far he leans into the book to read. Louis has pulled his head up multiple times now but he ends up cross-eyed from reading the words from too close, anyway.

  
Liam hasn’t said a single word in four hours because he’s been furiously typing on his laptop, something about computer programs. And Zayn has been glaring at him all day, making it very clear that he’s resentful that Louis’ already done with his finals. And Niall as always is asleep because nothing comes before sleep, _nothing._

  
Louis falls asleep on the lumpy library sofa at some point and Harry shakes him awake when it’s time to go home. Well, it’s actually nine a.m. and Harry has his final in two hours so they both walk home where Louis crashes on the sofa while Harry jumps into the shower to wash off the sweat before he goes to write his exam.

  
He startles awake as a loud bang echoes through the flat and when he twists around to see what caused the noise, he finds Harry staring at a broken glass on the floor with wide eyes. Louis immediately gets up and walks closer to him, and his face is even more heartbreaking from here because Harry looks like he’s going to have a panic attack.

  
So he carefully reaches forward and tentatively touches Harry on his arm. The boy jumps as if he’s been electrocuted and Louis’ hand remains frozen mid-air because Harry’s only ever flinched away from him once and it was that night that he’d pushed him away at Aiden’s party. And he still hasn’t forgiven himself for doing that so he can’t even move as Harry jumps away from him.

  
While he’s busy not thinking about Harry’s wrecked face from that night, he feels nimble fingers gently curling around his outstretched hand and Harry looking down at him with pleading eyes.

  
“I didn’t mean to--”

  
“It’s okay, Haz. It’s alright.”

  
“I’m sorry, I’m just so worried about this test. He hates me, Louis, you haven’t seen him glaring at me and calling me out in class. He hates me and I can’t fail this, what will I do if--”

  
“Harry, you won’t fail. Just breathe, okay? Look at me, love. Look at me. Just put on your shoes and I’ll go with you to the exam hall.”

  
“I don’t want to go, Lou. I can’t--”

  
“It’s okay, love. I’ve got you, yeah?”

  
Harry nods his head but he still looks very doubtful. Louis pulls him into his chest, and holds him close for a second. He can feel Harry trembling against him, he’s shaking like a leaf so Louis holds on till he can feel Harry’s breaths evening out a bit. He squeezes the boy even closer while whispering in his ear,

  
“I’ve got you, Hazza.”

  
And when he does let go a minute later, Harry’s looking more like his confident self even though his eyes are still darting around nervously.

  
By the time they walk to the classroom where Harry’s final is, there are students milling about in the corridor and Louis notices that literally even single one outside the class looks they’re walking into their beheading or something.

  
He finds Harry’s hand gone lax in his own so he grips it a bit tighter and levels him with a reassuring smile. Harry tries to smile back at him but it comes out a grimace and it makes Louis laugh.

  
“You’ll be alright, Haz! You’ll do great, promise.”

  
Harry nods his head with the conviction of someone who’s about to do just what you’ve told them not to, the moment you turn around.

  
“How do you get Pikachu on a bus?”

  
Harry looks at him with furrowed eyebrows that make him look like a confused kitten.

  
“I don’t know, Lou. How?”

  
“You poke-'im-on.”

  
Louis knows it’s a bad joke. Not even that funny and he would never tell such a bad joke, on principle. And yet here he is in the middle of a corridor filled with people, telling one of the dumbest jokes ever just to make this boy smile. Which, Harry does smile but for all of two seconds before he looks around nervously, as if mentally counting down the seconds in his head.

  
“How about, I’ll go get tea and have a chat with Coach for a while and then I’ll be waiting outside when you come back?”

  
Harry shakes his head at him even though the way his hand tightens a bit betrays his denial.

  
“You should go home and sleep, you’ve been up all night.”

  
“So have you but tell you what, I’ll go annoy Coach for a bit and then we can go home together and sleep through the entire day till we have to get up for the party. How’s that sound?”

  
He knows he looks ridiculous as he waggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly but the tiny smile that appears on Harry’s face is worth making a fool of himself in front of students who’re looking at Louis with judging faces.

  
“But Lou, yo--”

  
The commotion that starts when the classroom door opens makes Harry cut his words short as he turns around to look at the students going in. His face gets clouded over with worry and the smile disappears,

  
“You’ll do great, Haz. Good luck and I’ll be here when you’re done.”

  
He feels like a parent leaving his kid at kindergarten for the first time as Harry pulls his hand out of his and shuffles his feet to walk through the classroom door with hunched shoulders. He even turns around and looks at him through the glass pane in the door with wide eyes and Louis wants to grab his hand and run but he raises his thumb at Harry instead and gives him an exaggerated smile.

  
God, this boy will be the end of him.

  
***

  
Coach Winchester groans when he looks up from his desk to find Louis knocking on his office door. Technically, they’re off the field till after hols and Coach had made a motivational speech last week telling them to refrain from putting on holiday weight or he’ll make them run laps till they lose all the pies and cakes.

  
“What’re you doing here, Tomlinson?”

  
Louis just grins at him and puts a cup of coffee in front of Coach before settling in one of the chairs opposite him.

  
“Brought you coffee, Coach.”

  
The man just narrows his eyes at Louis - and okay, that was just one time. Louis has only ever pranked Coach one time last year - before leaning down to sniff the cup of coffee.

  
“Oh come on Coach, I wouldn’t--”

  
“Save it. I was done believing you that day you sabotaged my pie.”

  
Coach can be so melodramatic sometimes, he’s left rolling his eyes at the manchild in front of him. This manchild coaches their football team - that’s currently sitting at #2 in the inter-university tournament - and is one of the most feared men on campus.

  
“I didn’t sabotage--”

  
“You know pie is sacred to me, Tomlinson. And you ruined it. It was apple-pie too.”

  
“I’ve apologized so many times for that, Coach. And I’ve never done anything else after that.”

 

“You brought that _giraffe princess_ to my field and now he--”

  
It’s Louis’ turn to narrow his eyes at Coach because bingo. He’s been watching Harry and Coach’s interactions for the last few weeks and they keep getting stranger and stranger. Coach always looks like he’s running for his gun when he walks away from Harry nowadays and Harry always has that creepy serial killer smirk on his face when they walk back to the flat after practice.

  
He’s asked Harry countless times but every time he shrugs and says it’s between him and Coach but now he finally has an in.

  
“He what, Coach?”

  
The man’s face crumbles in front of his eyes, he’s seen this man angry and yelling and disappointed but he’s never seen this. Never seen him flustered and blushing.

  
Panic claws at his chest as he considers what this means. Is Coach having an affair with Harry? He’s sure his eyes are the size of saucers right now as he clutches his cup of tea like a lifeline because no. Coach is not allowed to date Harry or even look at Harry, _no one is allowed to look at Harry._

  
 _Fuck._

  
There’s that wretched topic again. He’s been trying so hard not to think about this but it’s kind of difficult when you’re sporting a crush the size of Ireland on your best mate.

  
He’s not ready for anything, Harry has been fairly quiet about it - bar that awkward phone conversation last month when Harry had thought it was his mum calling, which Louis doesn’t even want to know what that conversation was about - and Louis’ been successful at keeping it platonic for the most part.

  
But just because he and Harry are not happening does not mean Harry will go out with Coach. No.

  
“He just--forget it, Tomlinson.”

  
Coach’s nervous voice breaks him out of the trance he’d put himself in and no, he’s not going to metaphorically sit here and watch his best mate and his football Coach play footie under the table - _oh god no._

  
“Are you sleeping with him?”

  
If he wasn’t hanging on to his sanity by bare inches, he would laugh so loud at Coach’s face right now but his breath is actually stuck in his throat waiting to hear the man’s answer so he doesn’t have that luxury. Instead, he sits there with baited breath and ringing ears waiting for Coach to blink his wide, shocked eyes and come back to the land of the living and answer his question.

  
When he doesn’t, Louis fears that he’s broken Coach.

  
“Are you?”

  
“Louis!”

  
Coach is looming over him with his own chair toppled back onto the floor from how fast he stood up, he would be afraid that he offended the man but right now he just needs to know.

  
“Well?”

  
“Are you seriously insinuating that..”

  
“He’s not hard on the eyes, Coach, I get it. But are you really--”

  
“No, I’m not fucking your precious boyfriend!”

  
“He’s not my boyf--”

  
“Can it. Goddammit, he’s giving me anxiety even when he’s not here, that twat.”

  
Coach runs his hands over his face and sighs tiredly before sitting back down on his toppled over chair. He looks much older than he does usually and Louis would guess that it’s the uncomfortable conversation that's made him age several years.

  
“Look, just--he and I have some unresolved business. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

  
He does not like the sound of that, does not like the sound of that at all. He wants to stand up and topple over his chair too, he wants to yell that _I knew him first, I brought him here, everything he does has got to do with me_

  
Coach can probably read his mind because the next thing he knows the man is standing up from across the table and coming over to sit down next to him.

  
“I will saw your balls off in your sleep if you bring this up ever again. But you need to have a chat with that boy, clear up whatever it is that you and he are doing or not doing. Trust me, indecision doesn’t help anyone and it’s certainly not worth losing people over.”

  
His eyes snap up to meet Coach’s when he hears the soft tone of his voice. The last person he ever expected to hear relationship advice from was Coach Winchester which--how does he even know there is a relationship to be giving advice about? Not that there is a relationship.

  
 _What._

  
Has Harry been talking with Coach about things he shouldn’t have even been thinking about. And why is Coach the person he’s been confiding in?

  
“What has he said to you? Is this the unresolved business tha--”

  
“My God, you’re a spitting image of me! Always thinking of the things that don’t fucking matter! I’m only going to say this once, whatever he and I talk about it’s got nothing to do with you. But I’m not blind and I see things - things I’d rather not see - and that’s why I’m telling you to talk to him. After that, do whatever you want.”

  
“Coach--”

  
“Louis, I’ve known you for two years now and you know I don’t like to meddle and overstep. But whatever it is you’ve got going on with him, sort it out.”

  
He just nods dumbly as Coach gets up and walks around the table to go sit in his chair and bury his nose in whatever he was doing before Louis got here. He takes that as a sign to leave, even though he’s in nowhere near a state to walk or even breathe really.

  
The History department is across the campus and Harry won’t be done with his test this soon anyway, so he plops down on a bench just outside the English building. A few people startle as his form slumps onto the bench as if lifeless, but he’s got no mind to appease any of these people. Not when there’s a storm brewing inside of him.

  
He doesn’t know how Coach knows about him and Harry or how much he knows or even if there is anything to know. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts about Harry being with someone else, it shouldn’t matter to him and he can lie all he wants but he knows it’s not just because that person is Coach. He knows he’d be jealous if it was anyone else, he knows it but he’s going to lie to himself because it’s always easier than facing the truth staring you right in the face.

  
***

  
He finds Louis sitting outside the class staring at the wall when he gets out of the final. It was probably the worst exam he’s ever written, no definitely the worst. And Professor Davis had picked on him continuously even as the exam was going on. But well, he’s glad to be done with his end of terms and finally be free.

  
“Lou?”

  
Louis looks up startled with wide eyes and if Harry didn’t know better he’d think it was guilt that flashed across his face just now.

  
“You alright?”

  
“Yeah, yeah. There's a crack in this wall. Anyway, so how was it?”

  
“Crap.”

  
“Oh, well at least you’re done with it now.”

  
“Yeah I’m so glad! You didn’t have to wait though.”

  
“It’s alright, love. But I can’t keep my eyes open for much longer so let’s hurry up and get to sleep.”

  
“Yeah, and you need to pack for Paris too.”

  
“Oh god, I hate packing. Be a doll and pack mine, would you?”

  
“Not right now though, I’m dead on my feet and I need a bed.”

  
“'Course not now, Haz. But when you pack yours.”

  
“I already did mine.”

  
“When? You were studying for the final all day yesterday.”

  
“I packed like a week ago, Lou.”

  
Louis rolls his eyes and closes the flat door after him. Harry takes his shoes off and is putting them neatly beside the door while Louis flings his in different directions before stripping off his shirt and jeans.

  
If Harry wasn’t disoriented due to his lack of sleep, he’d be drooling on Louis’ naked chest right now but because neither of them is actually even fully awake right now, they just strip off and jump into bed. Harry’s out of it before his head even hits the pillow, Louis shuffling close and holding him to his chest.

  
He wakes up to a loud bang somewhere followed by a litany of very colourful language in a thick Irish accent. Half sleepy, he just shakes his head at Niall before settling back on the pillow. He can feel something heavy on his torso so he looks down expecting the blanket or god-knows-what and finds Louis’ arm wrapped around his waist. That arm is attached to Louis, _a shirtless Louis who’s snoring next to him._

  
Just how did Harry miss the soft intake and outake of breath against his chest as Louis lies sprawled over 3/4th of the bed. For all that Louis is tiny as compared to Harry, his limbs are everywhere. Harry can feel him everywhere and his skin crawls with heat at the realisation, every point of contact burns into his skin and right through it.

  
Louis shifts slightly against him and without meaning to, Harry’s hand shoots out to keep him where he is. Louis relents, shifts around a little but settles back against his side with their legs tangled up under the sheets. And that’s how he falls asleep again, surrounded by Louis.

  
***

  
“Oi wake up you two! How long’ve you two been out of it?”

  
Louis wants to pick up the nearest heavy object and fling it at Niall so he’d shut up and go away but just as he’s feeling around the bedside table to find something, there’s movement next to him and before Louis can even open his eyes properly he feels a blanket being thrown on his face. He splutters and yanks the cloth away from himself only to find Harry standing next to the bed pulling a shirt over his head.

  
Oh right, he’d been sleeping shirtless in his bed, with Harry next to him. Okay. No big deal.

  
“‘were just tired after the final, Ni.”

  
“Yeah you were, but what’s his excuse?"

  
“Lou went with me to the exam, and waited outside the entire time so we only fell asleep around 1.”

 

“Okay well, Zayn’s gone ahead to the party already and Liam will meet us there. So it’s just us lads, get ready soon.”

  
Niall disappears in a blur of orange and green which what--oh right. It’s a costume party.

  
“Hey, are you going to tell me what your costume is, finally?”

  
Harry shakes his head and Louis does not like that mischievous glint in his eye. No, he does not like it and he absolutely _does not find it endearing._

  
“Fine, you won’t be seeing mine either, then.”

  
“I already know what it is, Lou.”

  
“Do you?”

  
“You’re going as a mime.”

  
Louis can’t help but smirk at the boy whose smug grin falters a little as he stares back at Louis.

  
“Think again, Harold.”

  
He’s definitely calculating something in his head, looks like a ridiculous human rendition of the buffering icon.

  
“But you--you were talking with Zayn about it.”

  
“Were you eavesdropping, Harold? That’s a very bad thing.”

  
“But what’re you dressing up as? Please, Lou.”

  
“Not telling you.”

  
Harry pouts like a kid who’s been denied candy, but Louis tunes him out and rushes toward the bathroom so he doesn’t have to look at those ridiculous puppy eyes and those stupid lips all puckered up.

  
He is a weak, weak man.

  
***


	6. Look into my eyes, it’s where my demons hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit more angst, with a side of sadness.

He gets out of the shower to find his phone ringing. Before he can get to it though, Alex Turner stops his drunken confessions. Harry picks it up gingerly to find seven missed calls, all from the same number. He almost wants to put it on silent and forget about it but he’s the one that opened this can of worms so he might as well deal with it.

  
Taking a deep breath, he dials the number and it stops ringing on the first dial-tone as a loud voice cuts through the static.

  
“Where have you been, Harry? I’ve been calling for--”

  
“I was in the shower, Dean. Calm down, mate.”

  
“Calm down? You’re telling me to--”

  
He can imagine that big vein in Dean’s neck throbbing as he yells through the phone. Godamnit, why had he ever thought it was a good idea to get Coach to come to the Halloween party? Why had he felt the need to meddle when Coach was perfectly happy pining over his Mythology professor from afar?

  
 _It’s because you wanted someone to be happy, if you couldn’t be._

  
Right. His ‘selfless venture to get Dean and Cas together because his own hopeless crush on his best mate would never work out’.

  
“Are you there, you little--”

  
“Dean! Listen to me, okay? I’m just gonna dress up and we’ll be there in an hour or so. It’d do you good to get out a bit and have a pint. Plus, your team will be there so it’ll be fun.”

  
So he may not have told Dean that Cas was coming too and that it was mostly just students - and not faculty - celebrating end of the semester. Oops.

  
“Remind me again why I’m going to a Halloween party thrown by the Students’ Association?”

  
“Because I’m a good mate and you need to get pissed so you can stop moping.”

  
“I don’t mop--”

  
“Let’s not go there.”

  
A loud knock on his door jars him from the conversation and before he can even answer the door, Louis’ yelling for him to come out when he’s ready. Dean must’ve heard it through the phone because he grumbles a goodbye and vaguely threatens him to get to the party soon. Well, as vague as he can do while mentioning his shotgun in the same sentence.

  
“I’ll see you there.”

  
Louis pokes his head in just as he’s saying goodbye, face twisted in confusion as he looks anywhere but at Harry. It takes him a second to understand why Louis won’t look at him but the moment he does, he can’t help but lower his arm to hold his towel in place to make sure it doesn’t fall. He’s not insecure about his body at all but Louis' standing front of him and he's still wet from the shower, so he throws the phone on the bed and pulls his arm around himself to cover his bare chest a little.

  
“Who was that?”

  
“Dean.”

  
Louis tilts his head and opens the door a little more to come in and lean in the doorway. He’s only wearing his boxers and a tank top with a pair of jeans clutched in his hands so Harry makes an executive decision and turns around with his back to the door as he pulls on his white undershirt. They don’t need to be around each other in any states of undress, it’s better this way.

  
“Who’s Dean?”

  
“Your football Coach? Are you alright?”

  
When he turns around, Louis’ standing there with his eyes wide open and his lips parted in surprise. Harry’s hoping that it isn’t because Louis can see his growing-by-the-second problem under the towel still wrapped around his waist.

  
“Why’s he calling you? And since when do you call him Dean?”

  
“Since his name is Dean.”

  
“Yeah but--”

  
“Lou, can you give me ten minutes to dress up? We need to leave soon.”

  
Louis looks like he’s going to protest so Harry rushes through his words,

  
“You haven’t put on your costume yet either, unless you’re going as a boy-band member with those turquoise jeans?”

  
“Oh ha ha, so funny Harold. I’m laughing on the inside, I swear I am.”

  
“Just go put your things on and I’ll put on mine and then we can go. Niall looks like he's going to start eating the sofa if we don’t leave soon.”

  
Louis turns around and walks out of the room without another word, Harry doesn’t want to tell him about Coach coming to the party because then he’d have to explain why he’s there and why his Mythology professor’s there and he’s not going to go behind Dean’s back like that. After all, Dean’s been keeping his secret for four months.

  
***

  
He’s dressed up in a black suit. Black from head to toe, he’s got his shirt unbuttoned and his stupid necklaces hanging against his pale chest. He’s got demon eyes.

  
Louis’ not going to make it through this night. There’s no way, he can feel a heart attack coming and he’s not strong enough to survive one. Niall should just call an ambulance now, they should get him into an A &E.

  
“You alright, mate? Don’t look that well.”

  
He shakes his head to break away from those thoughts, Niall is standing in front of him with wide concerned eyes and a tight grip on his shoulder. Louis' not sure he can even form coherent thoughts right now, and Harry's walking closer and closer by the second. 

  
“Yeah, I’m alright, Nialler. This costume’s a bit tight, innit?”

  
“Well if you ask me, you look like the actual Spider Man from the films. And Tobey Macguire not that new kid.”

  
He can’t help but laugh at the sour expression on Niall’s face because they both feel very strongly about Tobey Macguire being the only Spider Man. No can replace him. Not even Louis, even though he’s spent a fortune on this costume and he knows his arse looks great in spandex.

  
Niall’s still laughing when Harry walks up to them, hips swaying carelessly as his sharp silhouette advances toward them with this aura of danger and power exuding from his every step that makes Louis move a little behind Niall.

  
Suddenly, he feels self-conscious about his stupid spandex costume when Harry looks like he’s going to walk into a five-star hotel like he owns it and onto a rooftop and shoot people through a military-grade weapon. Or he’s going to step in close enough and put his mouth two inches from Louis’ ear and whisper something that’ll make him jump off a bridge just because.

  
He’s startled out of his trance when Niall wolf whistles at his cousin.

  
“You’re definitely dressed to kill, Haz. Can you even see through those contacts?”

  
“No, I’m just navigating by sense, Ni. I’m a demon, aren’t I?”

  
“Well, good luck with that mate. At least you’re going to get shagged tonight. For sure.”

  
Harry blushes and looks down on the ground, Louis can tell in the faint light from the street lamp that his cheeks are burning and he does not want to see Harry with pink cheeks and black demon eyes. Nope.

  
“Let‘s get going then.”

  
Both lads’ eyes snap up to him, he can feel heat crawling over his skin as Harry’s eyes rake up and down his form. Niall curses and says something about forgetting his ID in the flat before running back into the building but all Louis can do is stand there on the dark street and hold Harry’s gaze.

  
He’s not sure he’s even breathing right now, Harry has moved closer--close enough that Louis can feel his breath on his cheek and the heat of his body along his side. His eyes flutter shut when Harry raises his hand to gently cup his cheek. His breath gets stuck in his throat because Harry’s thumb is moving back and forth on his cheekbone, gentle enough that his skin tickles and firm enough that he can feel his fingers leaving imprints on heated skin.

 

Louis feels the tension break like a live-wire being yanked away from his naked skin when Niall comes running back and flags down a taxi. Louis doesn’t dare look at Harry, he was seconds away from kissing the lad and he does not need to get pulled in again. Thankfully, Niall’s endless chatter saves him the awkwardness.

  
Harry doesn’t make a move to talk to him either, he’s sitting silently on the other side of Niall with his eyes stuck to the window and Louis is beyond grateful because he’s not sure he’d be able to stop himself from leaping across Niall and jumping into Harry’s lap if he caught sight of Harry looking at him with those demon eyes. How the fuck did Harry even find all-black contacts? And since when does Louis find demons attractive?

  
He’s got the door open before the taxi even stops, feet landing on the pavement and rushing toward the club because he knows he doesn’t have the strength to be around Harry and hold himself back. Niall’s yelling at him while paying the driver but Louis’ got urgent things to take care of so he ignores him in favour of rushing inside and looking for the only person he can unload this on.

  
Zayn spots him across the room and waves him over, Louis’ not even sure if Niall and Harry are still outside but he absolutely needs to put some distance between himself and Harry so he rushes toward his best mate. Zayn takes one look at him and hands him a shot glass without a single word. This is why he and Zayn have been mates for ages, he thinks.

  
Louis’ downed three shots by the time Niall and Harry finally come and find them. He makes some crap excuse about having to take a wee and that’s why he ran from that taxi. Niall seems to buy it, he just pats Louis’ shoulder before going back to stare at Zayn who’s decked out in steam-punk clothes from head to toe, even black leather gloves. If Louis was even a little better in control of his own head, he’d tease Niall or Zayn about their inability to keep their eyes off each other.

  
But Harry’s still trying to meet his eyes and Louis can’t bring himself to look at him, the alcohol running through his veins is edging him on but he knows he can't resist Harry on the best of days and right now when he looks like a fucking demon, Louis won't survive. Zayn seems to understand his desperation because two seconds later he feels a sharp tug on his arm before he’s being pulled out the side exit.

  
Zayn lets go of his arm the second they step out, he finds himself leaning against the wall, chest heaving as he tries to breath through the haze of discomfort. Zayn is looking at him with hooded eyes, his hand coming to rest on Louis’ shoulder just to let him know that he’s here. It takes him a minute or two but he brings himself back.

  
“You alright?”

  
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry I--”

  
“Don’t be. I could hardly look away from him myself.”

  
He looks up at Zayn ready to curse him to hell but deflates when he finds the lad smirking at him like the little shit that he is.

  
“Should’ve seen your face just now, Lou.”

  
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, at least.”

  
“You need to cool it, mate. Keep your distance for a bit, yeah?”

  
“I can’t even look at him, Zayn.”

  
“Fair play to him, mate. He’s here to find someone for the night and with the way he looks he’s going to have to fight them off with a--”

  
Zayn shuts up when he catches his eye. Louis can imagine what he looks like right now, with his bitch face on.

  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to--y’know.”

  
“Just leave it, Zayn.”

  
They stand there in the dark side-street till he can feel his breath returning to normal. Zayn stays right beside him, a warm pressure against his shoulder but absolutely silent to give him time. When it's been a good five minutes, he lights a joint and offers Louis a drag.  As much as his mum hates him smoking weed, Louis needs it sometimes and this one of those times so he takes it thankfully.

  
“Don’t beat yourself up about it, mate. We all have our demons to fight--forgive the pun.”

  
His stupid smirk says otherwise, Zayn knows exactly what he said and he doesn't feel apologetic at all. Louis decides to strike back just as hard. Well, if Zayn’s going to be making fun of his situation then he’s going to return the favour. He’s a good mate after all.

  
“Although he has his moments, I wouldn’t call Niall a demon per say.”

  
The glare sent his way could kill lesser men but Louis stands his ground because he’s known Zayn way too long to be intimidated by his piercing brown eyes and clenched jaw.

  
“Louis--”

  
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the way he was eyeing you, I’ve only ever seen him looking like that at food. Not to say he wouldn’t eat you--”

  
“Don’t go ther--”

  
“Why not? You fancy him, he fancies you I don’t get what’s--”

  
“It’s complicated, Lou.”

  
“Is it?”

  
“Maybe not as complicated as you and Harry but just leave it, yeah?”

  
All the years that he’s known Zayn, there’s only been a handful of times when he’s seen the lad looking like this: pleading. Zayn’s far too layered to let something as vulnerable as a plea leak through the mask so Louis lets it go. He knows the feeling up close and personal, after all. 

  
“Alright well, you go on in. I’ll be right behind ya.”

  
“I can stay if you--”

  
“No, you’re alright. I just need a minute to breathe.”

  
“Lou, I’m worried ab--”

  
“Don’t be, yeah? I’m alright.”

  
Zayn looks like someone’s snatched his sketchbook and he's about to unleash terror on them, but eventually he relents and goes in. Loud music pours out the door when Zayn slips in and it’s a reminder that Louis’ here to have a good time. This thing with Harry, he can’t let it stand in the way.

  
They’ve already been through this, he and Harry are never going to happen. So, he takes a couple of deep breaths and slips in through the exit door and heads straight for the bar. He’s going to have a great time tonight, get pissed to make up for the long semester he’s had.

  
***

  
Someone yanks his shirt from behind and before he even has a chance to protest, he’s being dragged to a bathroom with the door firmly shut behind him. He’d be worried about being forced by someone but after the four shots he’s had in the last five or so minutes, hardly anything would phase him. He’s in happy land and no one can ruin that for him.

  
Except for a fuming Dean Winchester staring at him like he’s going to eat Harry alive. Maybe that will phase him.

  
“What the fuck is he doing here?”

  
He can actually see a throbbing vein on the man’s forehead as he yells at Harry and okay, he’s phased alright.

  
“I just thought--”

  
“You can’t even open your eyes properly, how much have you had to drink? Eh?”

  
“I had one--”

  
“How many, Harry?”

  
“Four maybe.”

  
“Jesus Christ, you look like you’re going to keel over any second.”

  
“No, it’s just hitting me all at once, I’ll be fine and ready for more in--”

  
“You’ll be going home on a stretcher if you drink anymore.”

  
“Loosen up, mate, it’s end of semester!”

  
“Harry, listen to me, okay? You’re really pissed, don’t drink anymore alright? Can’t even see your eyes behind these stupid black contacts. Why'd you dress up like--what're you dressed up as?”

  
“They’re fine, my eyes are fine. I can see alright. And I'm a demon, can't you tell? With all black eyes, but I can see fine.”

  
“Is that why you’re squinting at everything?”

  
“No, it’s cuz it’s really bright in here. Why are we in a bathroom?”

  
“Why are we--oh god. Kill me now. We’re here because Castiel is here and you didn’t tell me, you little shit.”

  
“Oh yeah, I invited him. You fancy him, don’t ya? So go talk to--”

  
“I won’t go talk to him, no thanks. Is this some sort of set-up or something? What’re you playing at?”

  
“I’m not playing, I just wanted someone to be happy.”

  
“Harr--”

  
“Y’know, cuz I can’t be. My stupid crush is never going to work out, at least you can try.”

  
“What happened?”

  
As much as he’s grown closer to Dean, he’s never seen concern dripping from his face like it is right now. Harry feels bad for worrying him when he should be out there enjoying the party.

  
“Nothing happened, you should go talk to--”

  
“I’m not moving from here till you tell me what’s happened? Is it Louis, has he said--”

  
“No, that’s the problem. He never says anything.”

  
“Why don’t you talk to him ab--”

  
“Because he’s made it clear that there can never be anything between us, even though I can see it in his eyes every time I look.”

  
“D’you know why?”

  
“Why what?”

  
“Why he said that to you.”

  
“No. Something about me being young and learning things about life on my own.”

  
Dean stays quiet as his features twist into a frown after hearing his answer. Harry’s done with having a confession session in the bathroom, anyway.

  
“Let’s go back out, yeah? I can introduce you to Cas, see where it goes.”

  
If he wasn’t pissed out of his mind, he’d be scared of the glare Dean is levelling him with right now. He’d be scared and he’d be running away screaming from the bathroom, but he is comfortably blissed out of his mind so all he does is grin at Dean.

  
“I’m going to get you back for this, you giraffe bitch!”

  
A startled laugh escapes his lips just as he’s holding the door open for Dean behind him, his words sounding even funnier because of the way he’s grit them out of clenched teeth. Harry’s left laughing with his head thrown back as Dean closes the door shut behind him and comes to stand by his side, staring at the party in front of them. He feels like they're both going to war, the enemy's army stretched out in the room in front of them. 

  
Harry’s about to walk away and lead Dean toward the bar when he hears someone yelling his name. They both turn around to find Louis rushing toward them, his spandex costume stretching obscenely around his thighs as his legs move with a practiced grace.

  
“Haz!”

  
He feels Dean tense behind him, as if worried what his student would think of seeing him at a party. Harry almost giggles at the thought, seeing your coach dressed up as a Cowboy at an end-of-semester party! Maybe that’s why Louis looks shocked as he stops right in front of them.

 

“Where have you been?”

  
Harry feels a little confused by Louis’ absolute lack of acknowledgement towards Dean. If anything, he’d have imagined Louis ignoring him in favour of talking to his coach.

  
“I was just in the bathroom--”

  
“How long? I’ve been looking for you for ages.”

  
“Dean had something important to tell me--”

  
Louis finally seems to have noticed Dean standing behind Harry, he nods half-heartedly at his coach before resting his gaze back on Harry. It makes him feel a little hot under the collar, knowing that he has Louis’ undivided attention.

  
“You were in the bathroom with Coach?”

  
He’s about to say something when Dean beats him to it and makes some stupid excuse about spotting a friend and going over, when Harry knows Castiel is the only person even close to Dean’s age at this party.

  
“Yeah, we were just--”

  
Harry’s eyes are glued to Dean’s back as he walks away, he feels a bit bad about lying to him now that even Louis is not going to keep his coach company. Maybe he shouldn’t have meddled.

  
“Did you two--”

  
“What’s with the third degree, mate?”

  
Harry doesn’t mean to be rude but he can only take so much of Louis’ questions when all he wants is to kiss him, touch him, pin him to a wall--

  
“I’m just asking, Haz. You don’t look so good, your clothes are all rumpled and you’ve been locked in a bathroom with--.”

  
He is so done with this back and forth, one moment Louis acts like he couldn’t care less if Harry got married right here, and then the very next second he’s acting like a jealous ex. He’s lived through an entire semester of this game of hot and cold and Louis really needs to pick a side and stick with it.

 

He’s had enough.

  
“Like you care.”

  
Hurt flashes across Louis’ face for a single second before he covers it up with his usual mask of nonchalance and that more than anything makes Harry shoulder his way past Louis towards the bar to drown out his own hurt and rejection. Louis doesn’t follow him.

  
***

  
Zayn handed him a joint at some point and he most definitely smoked the entire thing without a second thought, and Niall’s been constantly supplying him with alcohol so it’s safe to say that Louis has no clue where he is or why. The music is too loud, the people too clingy and his stupid spandex costume is making him sweat like a whore in church but he’d be damned if he stopped dancing even for a second.

  
Harry’s words are replaying through his mind on a ceaseless loop, every silent accusation reflected in _greengreen_ eyes tearing holes in him as he moves along to the rhythm with absolute abandonment.

  
Apparently, Harry and Coach are close enough that he’s Dean to Harry now. Dean. And they’re close enough that they have things to discuss behind closed doors. That they need to be locked up in a bathroom in the middle of a party for god knows how long.

  
But Louis doesn’t care, he doesn’t. Just like Harry pointed out, Louis does not care even 0.1% about what is so important that it had to be discussed in a fucking bathroom.

  
Zayn’s been looking at him like a hawk watching it’s prey and as much as Louis is grateful for a mate as a loyal as Zayn, he is ready to lash out any second. His annoyance must’ve shown on his face because Zayn steals his eyes away just then. Only they settle on something behind Louis and he absolutely does not want to turn around and see what’s got Zayn looking so shocked.

  
He does though, he does turn around. To find Harry pinned to a wall and someone dressed up with angel wings on their back, plastered to his front. And he looks blissed out, stupid dimples etched deep in his cheeks as he leans down to whisper something in the person’s ear.

  
Coach is standing beside Harry, his face screwed up like he doesn’t like whatever’s being said. Even in the dimmed lights of the room, Louis can tell that Coach’s entire face is burning and he does not like the implication that the older man is blushing next to Harry--

  
\--and before he even knows what he’s doing, Louis is rushing toward them with Zayn’s panicked voice echoing in his head. He doesn’t know how many people he bumps into, or how many he shoves aside but he doesn’t stop until he’s ripped the man dressed as an angel away from Harry.

  
Even then, he doesn’t turn around to apologise or justify his actions. He can feel Coach’s eyes burning a hole in the side of his face, he knows the man he’s just pushed away is standing behind him but all he can see is Harry looking at him with wide eyes.

  
The adrenaline rushing through his veins doesn’t allow him to slow down and think about what he’s just done. Even with the blaring music around them, he feels like he’s in a room alone with Harry.

  
 _What if he asks me why I pushed the man away? Why did I push him away? Who was he?_

  
But Harry doesn’t ask and Louis doesn’t say. He doesn’t even know how long they’ve been standing there staring at each other, Coach and the stranger are no where to be seen though. It’s just him and Harry, standing mere inches apart.

  
It’s probably the alcohol or maybe the weed in his system that makes him lean even closer, close enough that he catches the exact moment when Harry’s breath hitches in his throat and his eyes flutter closed for a second before he snaps them open and all Louis sees is his black demon contacts and he’s never known arousal like it hits him in that instant.

  
He can’t stop it, could never stop it from happening. Harry leans down a little when he catches Louis moving onto his tiptoes. His lips are wet like they always are, perfectly shaped and so so red as Louis leans in closer, closer. Harry’s adams apple bobs as he swallows shakily, hot air from his mouth hitting Louis’ lips like scalding water and ice all at once.

  
“Don't go into locked rooms with anyone but me.”

  
Harry’s mouth falls open in surprise as Louis practically paints the words on Harry’s lips with how close they are, before closing that last bit of distance and brushing his lips against Harry’s.

  
He’s never touched anything more reverently in his life, never felt the need to. It isn’t long enough, although he doubts it will ever be long enough with Harry, before the heat of Harry’s body against his snaps him out of the euphoria. Harry’s lips follow him as he pulls away but he has to stop, he has to, so he pushes a hand against Harry’s chest to stop him from coming any closer.

  
His own body retreats, he can feel his chest aching as it’s ripped away from Harry’s, skin lighting on fire when he can’t feel Harry’s touch.

  
And the boy’s face is the worst, a reminder of that first night he’d pushed Harry away. All that hurt, and the betrayal evident in the hard lines of his face as he stares at Louis. He didn’t even know that someone could look angry and pleading at the same time, but that’s how Harry is looking at him. Begging him with his eyes and his wet mouth.

  
Every fibre of his being is pushing him to touch Harry, to kiss him again and to fall to his knees in front of him and beg _him_ for forgiveness for every single time he’s hurt him but Louis knows he can’t. So he steels himself and turns his back to Harry, ready to walk away once again.

  
But Harry’s hand on his wrist stops him, numbs his body and he can’t move at all.

  
“Please.”

  
There’s water welling in his eyes, panic crawling up his chest but Harry’s fingers around his wrist anchor him. The tremble in his voice as he whispered that single word grounds him. He blinks the tears away before turning around to face Harry. There’s a single tear rolling down his cheek and Louis almost falls to his knees but he has to be strong. For both of them.

  
Even as he leans in closer, he knows he will never forgive himself for doing it but he places a soft kiss on Harry’s cheek, anyway. He can feel the wetness from that single tear on his lips.

  
No one can hate him more than he hates himself in that moment as a flicker of hope flashes across Harry’s face just before Louis yanks his wrist free and walks away with a single word hanging between them.

  
“Sorry.”

 

***

  
The noise comes back to him in a rush, he can’t help the shiver running down his spine as his ears pop and all of a sudden he’s aware of every noise around him when he’s been stuck in limbo for what feels like hours. He’s sure it’s only been a few minutes since Louis whispered _sorry_ to him and walked away but it feels like it was a lifetime ago.

  
Like it was another life when Louis kissed him and wrenched his heart out in the same instant. And he’s been stuck in oblivion ever since, every noise and every sensation just numb until now when it’s all come rushing back as some lagered kid stumbles into him and walks away without an apology.

  
He’s left standing alone in a room full of people, still trying to piece himself together after Louis’ gone and shattered everything he’s held dear in his life.

  
With trembling hands, he brings his wrist closer to check the time in the dark room. It’s just getting closer to one, and in a bid to sew up his ripped heart, he decides to give Louis an hour to come find him.

  
An hour. That’s how long he waits. In the same room, eyes darting on unfamiliar faces to find the one he’s been dreaming about for ages. Just stands there as the buzz from his five shots recedes and leaves him too sober and too hurt.

  
No one notices him as he walks around in a daze, his watch announcing that it’s 2:30, time to go. But his heart is thundering in his chest and begging him to wait a bit longer. Just a little bit longer.

  
And Harry’s always been one to enjoy pain, to take it in as it comes and to swallow it because if anyone deserves it, he does. So he waits another half hour.

  
Louis never comes back.

  
Niall catches him just as a self-deprecating laugh rips out of his lips, his blue eyes shining with concern that Harry dismisses with a quick fake smile. They both know he’s hurting, and they both know he’s got a mask on to hide the pain but neither points it out. Maybe that's why Harry's always preferred Niall to his other cousins, they've always been too nosy. Niall knows when to push and when to leave him be.

  
He tells Niall he’s going to get another beer but as soon as his cousin turns around, Harry’s walking out the door without a single glance toward anything or anyone. His feet are slow today, deliberately so, as he walks toward home. Not like that day when he’d ran away from the party after Louis had pushed him away.

  
No, tonight he’s too sober to run away and find refuge. Tonight, he walks home and slips into bed and makes a decision.

  
A decision that he should’ve made that first time Louis turned away from him. And every time after, that Louis pretended or lied or denied, but he was too cowardly to see it. Today, he makes that decision. 

  
***

  
The next morning finds the lads hungover and moaning about how much everything hurts. Louis knows this more than anyone, he’s been hurting since last night. As much as he wants to run to Harry’s flat and see him with his own eyes just to make sure he’s alright, he’s not sure where they stand and he can’t bring himself to force Harry to even look at him after what he’s done.

  
Niall’s told him multiple times that Harry is fine, safe in his flat, and that he’d texted Niall to let him know that he will be coming around later but that's not enough. He needs to see Harry, to just catch a glimpse. Until that happens, Louis’ in his room staring at the empty suitcase he’s supposed to be taking to Paris in less than five hours.

  
Even hungover, the other lads are excited and rushing about the flat making jokes about their trip while he has locked himself in his room. In a fit of anger and frustration, he turns to his closet, pulls everything that comes in hand and stuffs it into the suitcase without even looking.

  
Just as he’s sitting on the suitcase and forcing the zipper closed, he hears the front door open and Niall’s loud voice ringing throughout the flat,

  
“Harry!”

  
The suitcase springs open as Louis gets off it and rushes out of his room in a hurry. His feet stutter to a stop on the hardwood floor when he finds Harry standing just inside the door, all dressed up with a duffel bag in hand.

  
In the past few months ever since meeting Harry, Louis’ gotten used to their eyes automatically meeting each other's whenever they’re in a room together. It doesn’t even matter how many other people are around them, Louis’ always looked up and found Harry already looking at him.

  
Not today.

  
Today, Harry’s staring at the floor. Louis feels something unwind in him, a little thread uncoiling slowly in the pit of his stomach, and Harry hasn’t even said or done anything yet.

  
“You’re early, we aren’t leaving for the airport for another hour or--”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

 

“I’m going to Cheshire.”

  
Louis’ eyes snap up at Harry’s words, suddenly he feels like he’s falling and there’s nothing at the bottom, just free falling. _No, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t--_

  
“But we’re going to Paris, Haz, we’re--”

  
Harry talks over Niall, his eyes sharply trained on his cousin’s face as he speaks in the most unwavering voice Louis has ever heard from Harry.

  
“Sorry Niall, mum and Gemma miss me. I’m going to Cheshire for the hols. You lot have fun in Paris.”

  
Louis’ left speechless, his eyes still trying to find Harry’s but he knows he doesn’t deserve it, knows he isn’t going to see those green eyes looking at him today. But knowing doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like someone’s just driven a dagger through his chest and it’s being pushed and pulled, over and over leaving a gash deeper and bloodier than any before. 

  
Niall protests a bit more but everyone gives up when all Harry does is stand there clutching his duffel bag with unyielding eyes and a stern face. Louis already knows no one can convince Harry, least of all him. 

  
After saying goodbye, Harry turns around and walks out of the flat without a single glance at Louis and he just wants to drown. Or be lit on fire, stabbed to death, hung from a tree -- just wants to breathe because he can't right now. 

  
Anything but this.

  
***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's what Harry's eyes look like + the wedding suit maybe (these are not my edits, due credit to the owners):  
> http://oi58.tinypic.com/10e0dj8.jpg
> 
> http://33.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_md3k8krWhM1qhugsyo2_500.gif
> 
> http://31.media.tumblr.com/a9765cf93e69c25c677820babfefdc3a/tumblr_mtmi9oBCLz1ql6soto1_500.gif
> 
> Cheers!


	7. We're a thousand miles from comfort

Niall’s babbling excitedly about all the places he’s going to see and drag the rest of them with him to, it’s weirdly quiet in the taxi though. Liam is listening intently to Niall while Zayn’s doing his silent brooding thing but Louis knows him too well to be fooled.

 

He knows that Zayn’s keeping an eye on him, that he’s silently observing him and waiting for a reaction to Harry’s last minute withdrawal - a reaction that never came.

 

They talked a bit about it after Harry left the flat but then it was decided that they were going to drop that discussion until after they get back from Paris and corner Harry about it. Louis’ not a fool, he knows exactly why Harry’s not here. Even though he’d quoted Anne and Gemma as the reason, Louis knows it’s him really that’s ruined this vacation for the both of them.

 

And this knowledge is weighing him down every second, he’s glaring holes into the empty plane seat next to his that was supposed to be Harry’s. He’s supposed to be sitting next to Louis right now and telling him some dumb knock-knock joke but he’s not here, thanks to Louis.

 

Zayn comes and sits next to him just after the seatbelt sign turns off, knocks his shoulder into Louis’, silently asking him if he’s alright.

 

As much as he wants to tell him the truth, he just smiles in return and leans closer to whisper in Zayn’s ear,

 

“Yeah, I’m just nervous about the loop-de-loop, ate right before boarding, didn’t I?”

 

He’s a prick, he knows this. But the look of sheer panic that crosses Zayn’s face at those words actually gives him life, Zayn looks like he’s contemplating jumping out of the window just to get out of here.

 

“I don’t like this, Lou, I don’t--”

 

He should tell Zayn, he should but _he can’t._ Not when his mate’s looking like he did when Mrs. Malik caught them smoking weed back in Sixth form. Instead, he very discreetly opens the camera on his phone and sets it to video-mode facing Zayn.

 

“It’s alright, mate, we’ve got five minutes or so before they do it.”

 

Zayn reaches for his hand over the hand rest and even though his grip is absolutely crushing Louis’ hand, he plays along and rubs his thumb soothingly over Zayn’s wrist.

 

“It’s okay, Zayn, it’s okay. I’m right here, mate.”

 

Zayn’s face is set in a scowl for the best part of five minutes, he almost looks like he’s trying to melt the world with his mind power and Louis’ having a hard time controlling his urge to laugh because this is going to be a great video but of course, Liam has to ruin it.

 

He appears just as Louis was about to clutch Zayn’s hand harder and tell him it’s happening now.

 

“Zayn, you alright, mate? You look a bit weird.”

 

“Yeah I’m okay, just worried about the loop-de-loop.”

 

As much as Louis tries to warn Liam telepathically about his plan, Liam obviously goes and ruins it. Louis could push him out the window right now.

 

“The what?”

 

“The loop-de-loop, Lou’s just told me about it. God, I wish you’d all told me before, I’d never have gotten on this fucking plane.”

 

Liam’s face contorts into a confused mask and Louis’ just waiting for the buffering to be over so the disapproval can shine through _and there it is_ _\- judgement and disapproval, Liam’s ‘louis face’._

 

This time the scrutiny is so strong and all-consuming that Zayn doesn’t even have to be told that Louis’ pranking him, just a look at Liam’s face lets him know. And he yanks his hand out of Louis’s grip,

 

“You fucker! I was so scared, Louis, you little shit!”

 

Louis’ actually worried for a moment that Zayn won’t forgive him for this, that this trip is about to get even worse but then Zayn’s face softens and he leans back against his seat.

 

“‘m sorry, Z.”

 

Zayn just nods at him in response, all traces of anger gone from his face. Liam is a whole other story though, he’s still blocking the aisle beside Zayn’s seat and his face is still a mask of disapproval. He’s shaking his head in that way he does whenever Zayn defends Louis or takes his side on anything.

 

“Un-fucking-believable! You’ll forgive him for anything, won’t you?”

 

He can feel Zayn tense up next to him and it’s just an instinct to reach out and touch his arm so he doesn’t lash out. Ever since Liam became a part of their little group, he’s always questioned Zayn’s automatic defence of Louis no matter what the situation.

 

And Louis always thought it was because Liam had a crush on Zayn but lately, he’s decided that it’s because Liam just doesn’t understand how Zayn can overlook all of his faults. And given Liam’s natural tendency to disapprove of about 84% of everything Louis does, he can understand that Zayn’s behavior would baffle him even more. But what he’s also learned is not to take Liam’s jabs personally and to chalk it up to the difference between their personalities, and it’s worked out so far except for an argument here and there.

 

In the middle of a plane ride though, he’s not ready to argue with Liam so he grips Zayn’s arm a little tighter before looking up at Liam with a mask of indifference on his face.

 

“It’s just banter, Liam. He’s alright, aren’t you, Z?”

 

Zayn nods at Liam and that’s that, he returns to his seat in the row behind them with his lips set in a tight line. Zayn relaxes next to him, his breath coming out in a relieved sigh.

 

“You are alright, right Zayn?”

 

What he gets in response is a mischievous smile that reminds him why he and Zayn are partners in crime.

 

“Really scared me there, Lou, but yeah I’m alright.”

 

In a moment of sheer insanity that he’s not proud of, he bursts out laughing remembering Zayn’s face of doom just minutes ago. And he knows Zayn’s forgiven him because he’s laughing with him, his head thrown back against the seat and his eyes closed probably remembering just how nervous he’d been.

 

Niall pops his head between the seats and looks at both of them curiously,

 

“What’s happening? What did I miss?”

 

Louis can’t even see Zayn’s face because Niall’s got his head stuck between the seats trying to move it side to side so he could look at them both. Zayn’s absolutely losing it, Niall’s grumbling about sitting with _"boring Liam, he’s reading a course book, fecking arsehole."_

 

Apparently, they’re being loud enough that other passengers are disturbed so the stewardess politely asks Niall to retreat his neck from between their seats and settle down. And in the midst of all this, Louis remembers that his camera is still recording.

 

***

 

Paris is beautiful.

 

Now he knows why people fall in love with this place, he has. But for everything he likes and every place he wants to visit, there’s ten more that Harry would’ve liked.

 

So it’s really not his fault that he can’t seem to enjoy all this beauty he’s surrounded by. Because even though the lads are all in a holiday mood, Louis’ sulking in the hotel room all by himself after he told them he’s feeling sick and is going to have a night in.

 

He can see the Eiffel tower through his hotel window, all lit up and standing tall as the pride of Paris. Harry had talked about going up and seeing the world from top of it, had constantly pestered Louis till he’d promised that he’d go along. And now here he is, so close but can’t bring himself to go without Harry by his side.

 

Even the next morning, he can’t help but feel like he’s betraying Harry somehow. The sadness that flows through him in a thick current doesn’t ebb away as they walk along the streets of Paris, filled with tourists doing touristy things.

 

Zayn is by his side the entire time, making jokes and pointing at people to poke fun but even he knows that Louis isn’t responding. He isn’t doing this to be a prick, he doesn’t want to be the person that sucks the enjoyment out of a vacation for everyone but he can’t physically bring himself to smile because on every step he sees some art gallery or some museum that he knows Harry would’ve dragged him to.

 

The only time he’s actually smiling at all is when they go to Stade de France, home of the French national football team. He can feel the overly-grown grass tickling at his bare ankles, the enormity of the stadium making a thrill of adrenaline course through him as Niall gets a football from somewhere and they kick about for a while before the guard comes around to tell them he’s locking up.

 

They celebrate Christmas in their hotel room by overdosing on bakery food and weed. Even Liam is all loose-limbed and blissed out, clinging to Louis as Niall and Zayn horse around. They fall asleep exhausted after long family calls and wrestling on the beds.

 

Louis startles awake sometime in the middle of the night to find the sky still dark outside the window and the boys spread out all over the beds with their limbs entangled in a mess. He picks up his phone from the bedside table and brings it to his face, blinking at the bright screen to check if he has any texts or calls he’s missed.

 

Not that he wasn't expecting it, but it stings a little that Harry hasn’t wished him Merry Christmas or replied to his message from a couple hours ago. But he can’t very well do anything about it so he forces his eyes closed and goes back to sleep.

 

They wake up just hours before their flight is supposed to leave so it doesn’t leave a lot of time to do anything else. Niall and Liam still insist on going to the Eiffel Tower with Louis even though they had already gone that first night Louis stayed at the hotel.

 

He’s not in a mood to let them down again so he agrees to make the trek from their hotel. There’s a rush of tourists everywhere and the line outside the tower is too long, so he gets an excuse for not going up.  
Instead, he poses for photos in front of the monument but he refuses to do the cheesy touristy poses of holding the tower up or leaning against it especially because he knows Harry would’ve made him.

 

Niall tells them they’re making a video for Harry so he knows what he’s missed but Louis knows there isn’t a mean bone in Niall’s body so the video is really more of a ‘you couldn’t come to the Eiffel, so we got you the Eiffel in a video’. And apparently, they also shot a video from top of the tower to show Harry.

 

Louis stays silent and smiles at the right times during the video and even agrees to click the million and a half photos that Niall and Liam want to take. Zayn just stands off to the side and doesn’t say anything.

 

After photographing every possible angle of the tower, they finally take a taxi to the airport. The hour long flight is weirdly resonant of the journey to Paris just four days ago. Niall and Liam are both snoring this time though, exhausted after their selfie sessions.

 

Zayn seems a bit more relaxed now that he’s already flown once. And Louis, well Louis is trying his best to not think about Harry and how epically he’s fucked up this time.

 

As much as he’s tried not to dwell on their fight or whatever it was, it’s been the one constant thought running through his mind the entire time in Paris. Harry had been so understanding last time, he’d agreed to everything Louis asked and started playing the denial game just as much as Louis.

 

But this time, he doesn’t know how he’s going to even look at Harry. Doesn’t know if he can even meet those cold green eyes he remembers from the morning they’d left. And what is he even going to say? Beg for Harry’s forgiveness? Beg him to stay mates because he can’t imagine not having Harry in his life?

 

Niall’s complaining about how Louis’ been really subdued this entire trip but he doesn’t respond. It takes a lot of self-restraint but he stays quiet even when Niall quips about him _being depressed because the missus wasn’t there._ When he doesn’t say anything or offer any explanation for his mood, Niall drops the topic and pats him on the shoulder before getting out of the taxi in front of their housing complex.

 

Zayn falters a bit, walking slowly but Louis tells him to go ahead. He just needs a minute to prepare himself before going inside, because once he steps into the building their vacation will be over and he won’t be able to live in a fictional world anymore where he and Harry are not fighting.

 

He does pull himself together, rolling his suitcase behind him and with his phone clutched tight in hand, he makes his way into the building and up the stairs.

 

***

 

He’s hardly stepped inside his flat and his mum’s calling again, and he’s absolutely not in the mood to be cooed over yet again. That’s all the hols have been for him this year, getting cooed over by his mum as if he’s the house dog, even Dusty had seemed jealous of all the hugging/embracing action he got from his family.

 

Gemma been unusually kind, her usual quips and teases missing glaringly from their interactions. Maybe that’s what made him ask her, or maybe it was the helplessness thrumming through his veins as he tried to understand just why he wasn’t enought for Louis.

 

Ever since he’d woken up the day after the party, all he could think about was how close Louis had been to him before he pushed away once again. How he’d apologised as if saying _‘I’m sorry but you’re not worth it’_

That’s all he could think of when he stood in front of the lads clutching his duffle bag and telling them he was running away to Cheshire because he couldn’t handle being in the same room with Louis after that night. And the whole train ride, all he’d done was replay those ten minutes from the party over and over in his mind.

 

Louis standing so close that he’d felt the long line of his heat blanketing him, so close that their lips were mere inches apart and so fucking close that Harry could feel Louis' hard dick against his thigh.

 

Just as he’d been in the middle of blaming himself yet again, someone had plopped down on the empty seat next to his. It wasn’t so much as politeness that made him turn as him being scared out of his skin at being jostled as another body sat down next to his.

 

When he did turn with wide surprised eyes, he found an older looking bloke with a towering quiff smiling at him. He was taken aback by how close he was and how intimate it felt even though he’d never seen this person before.

 

“You look like you’re ready to jump off the train any second. A boy?”

 

It’d taken him more than it should’ve to realise what this person was asking, and when he did finally understand he nodded his head without any reservation. He’d always been a very private person about his personal life but for some reason, it felt okay to tell a total stranger about his woes.

 

“Leave you hanging, did he?”

 

“Yeah, something like that.”

 

“I know all about that, more than I’d like to anyway. I’m Nick.”

 

Harry had readily accepted the offered hand and introduced himself too and after that, it’d just been a very long and detailed conversation about relationships. Nick seemed like a really nice person who had enough experience that’d he’d know what Harry was talking about.

 

“So your best mate, huh? That’s got to be rough.”

 

“Yeah, it is. Like, I don’t mind being just mates but he’s--he just--”

 

“Runs hot and cold?”

 

He’d turned to Nick with wide eyes because how could he possibly know and yet Nick had just grinned in response because apparently he knew.

 

“I’ve been alive longer than you, remember Harold?”

 

“Did you ever, like, fancy your best mate?”

 

“There was a time, yeah. Wasn’t much different than this, actually. He really liked to push and pull, like in a matter of seconds he’d turn. It confused me a lot in the starting, made me mad.”

 

“What’d you do, then?”

 

“I got a bus ticket and I got the fuck away from him.”

 

The smile Nick had offered him after saying that wasn’t like his other ones. This one was sad, like he was remembering what it’d felt like when he’d got on that bus. Harry couldn’t help but think in that moment _‘that’s what you’re doing, running away on a train’._

 

“‘m sorry for--”

 

  
“Don’t apologise, young Harold. That bastard would never have loved me so it’s a good thing, plus I came to London because of him so I’m grateful, really.”

 

His stomach dropped when the implication of Nick’s words hit home, that Louis possibly would never love him back. And it’s not like he hadn’t known that it’d be hard to get through to Louis but this was a definite ‘no’.

 

“Oi, you alright there, Harry?”

 

“Yeah, I uh--”

 

“Hey, not everyone’s the same, yeah? Maybe your boy just needs a bit of time.”

 

Nick’s cold hand had found his and when he’d looked up in surprise, Nick had been smiling encouragingly at him. Harry had told him things he hadn’t shared with anyone, things about New York and about Louis and just how gone he was on his best mate.

 

“You’re in deep, kid.” Nick had murmured while ruffling his curls and sighing.

 

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

 

“But you’ll be fine, yeah? If not with him, then with someone else but you’ll be fine.”

 

That was the last thing said between the two of them before Nick got off on his stop with Harry’s number in his phone and a reassuring smile as he stood at the platform waving through the window.

 

Nick’s words kept ringing in his ears over and over, even when he was home in Cheshire he couldn’t help but think back to the stranger on the train who now knew more about him than his own family and friends did. As scary and unsettling as it was, it was also refreshing. Relieving.

 

But four days of being asked about the lads and why he hadn’t gone with them, the relief had all but bled out of him and been replaced with the frustration and helplessness he thought he’d left behind.

 

Being teased about Louis was what broke him in the end though. His mum wouldn’t stop telling Robin and Gemma how domestic she thought Harry and Louis were, and he just couldn’t sit through another meal listening to her smitten ramblings about Louis.

 

Gemma found him in his room, curled up in bed and on the verge of tears but not quite. One ceaseless thought circling his mind, _‘Why am I not enough for him?’_

She asked what's wrong and he told her. About Louis pushing and pulling, denying and then cornering him, and she nodded along. It was probably the first time that she didn’t act like the overbearing, over-protective sister she’d become ever since their dad left.

 

No, this time she laid down next to him in bed and listened to whatever he offered her without asking him what he didn’t want to share.

 

“Harry, I won’t pretend I know how you feel but if I can tell you one thing it’s this: if he loved you or even cared about you, he wouldn’t play games with you. And I’m not saying he doesn’t care, all I’m saying is maybe he really isn’t capable of caring more than he does. Maybe he really can’t be with you, for whatever reason and you’re just making it worse by holding onto these feelings.

 

Look, I don’t want you to get hurt. And you’re obviously getting hurt right now and you will keep hurting if you don’t change this pattern you two have fallen into. If he’s not willing to give you a chance then walk away. I know it’s going to be hard, but do you really want to keep questioning if you’re enough every day, love?”

 

And that’s what did it in the end. That’s what made him lean in and kiss her cheek, fall asleep next to her as the frustration seeped out of him.

 

He left Cheshire feeling lighter than he had since moving to London, his family smiling and waving at him as he settled into his seat on the train and waved back with an unbidden smile.

 

***

 

And now he’s been back in his flat for all of 3 seconds and his mum’s calling. Sighing exasperatedly, he answers the phone ready for another round of Louis worship, no doubt.

 

“Have you reached safely?”

 

“Yes mum, just like I _texted you._ ”

 

“Just wanted to make sure, love. Are the boys back yet?”

 

“Dunno, haven’t checked yet.”

 

“Oh, I just wanted to talk to you about something, Harry.”

 

Ever since his parents had sat him down when he was eight to tell him they were getting a divorce, he’s taken a disliking to this tone of voice from his mum and these specific words because they’ve never meant anything good.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah, I’m worried about you, baby. You were acting a little strange this whole week--”

 

“I’m okay, mum.”

 

“I don’t think so, Harry. Have you had a fight with one of the boys? With Louis?”

 

His sharp intake of breath probably betrays his lie, but he lies anyway. “No mum, I haven’t had a fight with anyone.”

 

“Then why didn’t you go to Paris when you were so excited to? I didn’t want to ask in front of Gemma and Robin, but is everything alright with you?”

 

“Mum, I’m fine. The Paris thing was just a--I wanted to see you guys, that’s all. It’d been too long since I was home.”

 

“I know there’s something you’re not telling me but as long as you’re okay, I’m okay. Just remember that you’re my baby, no matter how old and wise you get, you’ll always be my baby. And you can tell me anything.”

 

He knows his voice will break if he tries to speak so he just nods his head, even though his mum can’t see him.

 

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it, then. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

 

“Bye, mum.”

 

“Bye, love. Take care.”

 

Just as he’s about to throw the phone on the bed so he can change into comfortable clothes, it rings again. It’s a text.

 

He should check it, it could be something important but he hasn’t really been able to look at his phone since getting Louis’ Merry Christmas text. He’d been in the middle of strumming the guitar while playing a song for his family when his phone had rung and just like that that little ting of his phone had taken away all the joy of singing a song while his family looked at him with unadulterated awe.

 

Turning his back to the bed, he walks toward his wardrobe to find something comfortable to change into. His phone keeps going off and it’s a testament to his patience that he doesn’t turn around to even check who it is.

 

The flat next door is quiet as far as he can tell so the lads are probably not back yet, he thinks as the chicken his mum sent with him heats up in the microwave. It feels strange to be standing alone in a quiet kitchen heating up stale food, probably because he’s been anything but alone since he moved into this flat.

 

A beep from the microwave brings him back to reality, shaking his head he gets a bottle of water from the fridge and settles in front of the telly with steaming hot food. Some reality show is playing on BBC 3 and he couldn’t care less about some fifteen year old’s tantrums but at least her annoying voice is a good background noise while he gets lost in his own thoughts.

 

It’s going well, the chicken is almost gone from the plate and he’s sorted through most of his errant thoughts when he first hears it: shuffling of feet in the hallway outside followed by muffled voices and a loud knock on his door.

 

He could stay absolutely still and ignore it but then Nick’s voice rings in his head ' _you’ll be fine. If not with him, then with someone else but you’ll be fine'_ and he gets up and opens the door to find Niall standing there with giant suitcases next to him but still that old, warm smile on his face.

 

“Harry, you’re back! Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

 

He gets one second to think on his answer before Niall’s pulling him forward into a hug, holding him close enough that Harry can feel all his breath leaving him in a whoosh.

 

“I was in the kitchen, left the phone on the bed. Sorry.”

 

“No worries, here, help me carry this inside. Those little shits have just gone in without me.”

 

He can’t help but chuckle at the scene in front of him as Niall holds the flat door open. Zayn, Liam and Louis are all slumped on the sofa with limbs scattered at odd angles while Niall is trying to wheel in five full-sized suitcases.

 

Just as Harry brings up a hand to stop the little sound he’s just made, Louis sits up startled with wide blue eyes directed at Harry. For a second, just a second, he loses his resolve. But he knows better now, so he just smiles at Louis and turns to help Niall carry in the rest of the luggage.

 

Ten minutes later, the luggage has been somehow moved to one corner in the living room and everyone has changed into comfortable clothes while Harry’s been in the kitchen looking through the fridge to find enough veggies to make a stir-fry.

 

He’s looking over the pan as it heats up oil when he feels someone walking into the kitchen behind him and without a single sound he knows it’s Louis. It should be awkward he thinks, them standing silently next to each other when the last time they’d looked at each other was .

 

“How was your vacation?”

 

He can see Louis flinching out of the corner of his eye, can see his surprised face and his wide eyes before he pulls on that familiar mask of indifference.

 

“It was alright, Paris was good. How was your time in Cheshire?”

 

Louis’ voice is not as steady as it usually is, not as firm as when he makes sarcastic quips. Harry can sense the undercurrent of discomfort in his tone but he’s going to do everything to avoid it and hope that Louis gets the message that they’re okay and that he’s not going to ever bring up what happened at that party again.

 

“It was good, but I got bored after a while. Played a couple songs on the guitar for my mum and stepdad, though. They really liked it.”

 

Louis nods silently while handing him salt, his fingers momentarily lingering on Harry’s before he turns to open the kitchen drawer and hand him a spatula.

 

“Harry, I think we need to talk--”

 

“Gemma’s got a boyfriend now. Mum was proper mad at her for not telling us before, but he seems really nice. I talked to him for a bit, he’s a nice bloke.”

 

Louis’ back by his side, a careful distance maintained between them that Louis would never have bothered with before. His blue eyes are tracking Harry’s face as if checking for any cracks in the mask, like he’s going to catch Harry pretending if only he looks close enough.

 

Silence stretches between them as Harry stirs the rice in the pan with practiced precision and Louis watches him closely. When he seems satisfied enough with his examination, he clears his throat and begins talking into the silence of the flat,

 

“I’m sorry, I really am. I wanted you to come to Paris. I missed you there, but I know it’s all my fault and I’m--”

 

He doesn’t know why he let Louis say this much, if he was going to cut him off why did he want to hear this part so much? Maybe it was because he wanted to check if there was a friendship to be salvaged here before he dove in and buried his feelings forever in favour of keeping Louis as a friend.

 

“It’s not really, I just needed to see my mum and Gemma and Robin. It’d been a while since I was home for an entire week, y’know with New York last year. It was nice being home on Christmas.”

 

“Why’re you being like this? I know it was becau--”

 

“I don’t know what you mean, Louis. Now, if you don’t mind, go get the lads. Food’s done, love.”

 

Louis lingers, his lips open around unsaid words and his hand in the air inches away from Harry’s arm before he lowers it. Harry turns off the burner, moving away to get bowls and plates from the cupboard completely ignoring Louis who’s still standing behind him silently.

 

With Harry’s back turned to him, he almost reaches out to stop him - for just one second, to stop and just listen, stop moving plates and bowls and just stop - but then he sighs and leaves the kitchen to go find the boys.

 

Harry feels a wave of disappointment rushing through him, even as he’s relieved, there’s regret because Louis’ just silently accepted Harry’s blatant denial about their situation without forcing him to admit that yes, he’s lying and yes, he went to Cheshire because of what happened between them.

 

He pushes it down, pastes a huge smile on his face as Niall stumbles in like a hungry dog and snatches a plate right out of his hands. He’s going to be fine, he will be fine.

 

***


	8. Once bitten, twice shy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been gone for a while, sorry. I can say life got in the way but honestly, I would've found time if I really wanted to write. I was just a bit out of it for a while there, but I think I'm back. Either way, I will finish this for sure through it might take a while. That said, thanks for reading this. Hope this chapter's good!

New Year’s eve is absolute chaos. There’s a party on-campus that Liam and Niall helped organize so they’re all going by default especially since Louis’ birthday wasn’t celebrated and this is a good time as any to get plastered and celebrate their mate’s ceaseless aging and imminent death with alcohol and songs.

 

“Will you stop? You’ve just turned 21, for fuck’s sake!”

 

“You can say this ‘cuz you’re not on the wrong side of 20 yet, Malik. I’ll ask you on your birthday, you twat!”

 

“I don’t think I’ll ever have a meltdown because of my age, Lou.”

 

“You will when you realise how you’re moving toward certain death as the days go by and your body is growing old, when there are younger people around you who can do things you used to be able to do like getting out of a fucking chair without making dying noises and walk two metres without having to stop for a breath.”

 

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking mental! They should keep you in a lab and study you.”

 

Harry walks in just in time to catch the last bit of that sentence and grins at Zayn like he couldn’t agree more. Louis’ watching him with narrowed eyes because his usually clumsy walk looks very determined right now as he stalks purposefully over to stand by Zayn and opens his mouth to spew out lies, undoubtedly.

 

“You’re absolutely right, Zayn. I’m actually taking a psych class this semester, I should volunteer him as a sample.”

 

Louis wants to strangle them both because they’re high-fiving like they’ve been best mates since kindergarten and this is a recurring joke. He feels left-out and attacked, and there’s only one way to react when you’re under attack. Lash out.

 

“You shut your mouth, Styles. If anyone belongs in a lab, it’s you with your extra nipples and your giant oaf feet.”

 

Harry just grins at him in response, completely unfazed by the sick burn Louis’ just levelled at him.

 

“Yeah sure, Lou. At least I’m not having a nervous breakdown about my age.”

 

Liam chooses this exact moment to grace them with his presence, his eyebrows raised in curiosity before he even opens his mouth,

 

“Who’s having a breakdown about their age? Louis again?”

 

He’s five seconds away from ripping Liam a new one but Zayn cuts in and saves the bastard because Louis would most definitely have annihilated him. No doubt.

 

“Okay, just leave him alone, lads. He’s already stressed out, he doesn’t need extra wrinkles.”

 

He throws a careless wink toward Louis to let him know that he’s only joking but Louis would appreciate it if they would all just fuck off and not give him any more anxiety about his stupid age than he already has.

 

“Are you quite finished, Mr. I-can-cut-you-with-my-cheekbones?”

 

Harry steps in between him and Zayn just as the lad was about to say something, and Louis feels something winding tight in his chest because it’s always been Zayn and Louis against the world and now there’s someone who’s stepping between them when they argue.

 

“Your cheekbones are quite sharp too, Lou. Probably even more and you don’t have wrinkles, I swear.”

 

And there it is, that blatant defense that Harry just naturally resorts to like breathing - without regard for anyone. Five months of knowing Harry, and Louis’ still trying to understand just how this boy can jump in to defend him against whatever and whoever, even against Zayn.

 

He’s left speechless, Zayn and Liam both get up and walk away, leaving just the two of them in the room and Louis has no idea what to say to Harry. Doesn’t know how he should thank him.

 

Things with Harry have been weird, to say the least. He has tried to talk about that day at the party several times but Harry always cuts him off. The pretending is getting on his nerves to be honest because Harry’s acting like everything’s alright between them when they both know that’s not true.

 

And Harry’s blatant denial is making that all the more apparent, there must be a reason why he’s avoiding the issue like plaque. Louis knows it’s not something they can just avoid and get past, he’s done his fair share of avoiding over the years and then some. And things like these never stay buried, tend to come out at the worst possible time.

 

But Harry’s been hellbent on avoiding conversation about the incident, and acting casual like nothing’s off. Louis falls into the trap sometimes, forgets that there’s something wrong and leans into Harry’s touch like he always used to and it’s easy too. It’s easy to forget, and be the best mates they are but then every once in a while it comes back to him.

 

And then he can’t fall back into that familiar rhythm with Harry, can’t help the awkwardness in conversation and the hesitancy in touching. But Harry is persistent and keeps pretending, keeps smiling and touching him and leaning into him.

 

Even right now, he’s standing so close to Louis that he can feel the long line of Harry’s body next to him, so close that Louis’ almost touching him from head to toe. And he’s got a stupid grin on his face that if anyone else was wearing, Louis would make fun of them for looking like a demented dog but because it’s Harry it’s forgiven.

 

“Will you stop scowling please, Lou? You don’t look a day older than 17, I swear.”

 

And just like that Harry takes away any chance Louis had of bringing up Paris again. He’s been shut down once just even as he was seconds away from conjuring up enough courage to bring up his behavior from that night.

 

All he wants to do is apologize for how he behaved, assure Harry that it will never happen again and move on. Because right now, it’s boiling under the surface because neither of them is bringing it up even as they both think about it. And he knows they do, has caught Harry staring at him sometimes with dark eyes that he averts awkwardly when he finds Louis looking back.

 

“Flattery will get you everywhere, young Harold, except when you lie to my face.”

 

For a second Harry looks like he’s been caught red-handed in the middle of stealing or something but he’s gotten so much better at pulling on a mask over his real emotions, and the irony is that Louis can pinpoint the exact second he straightens his brow and stares back at him nonchalantly.

 

There’s a distant realisation tugging at his conscience that Harry pulls on a mask even around him these days when he used to be an open book, at least around Louis. When he used to voice all his private thoughts that he deemed too stupid to share with anyone else. And now, he hides behind tight smiles and wide eyes even from Louis.

 

“I look no older than 16, Harry. And you better believe it.”

 

The smile that slowly creeps onto Harry’s lips this time is a real one. No masking, no lying, this is the bright smile that Harry and Anne have both levelled at him so many times that he’s lost count.

 

“I do believe it, you could pass for a 15-year old easy.”

 

“Let’s not, Harold.”

 

He puts on a fake smile of his own and guides Harry to the door with a hand comfortably resting on his back. Another ten minutes of Niall and Zayn getting ready and then they’re all piling into a cab to get to the party.

 

Even as loud music and drunk uni. students drown out most of his thoughts, he can’t help but feel the frustration coursing through him that’s bristling close to the brim tonight. Like he’s almost at the breaking point.

 

Maybe it shows on his face too, because Zayn drags him to the bar and makes him chug three shots before he even looks at Louis properly. Niall and Liam are off taking care of some fight and Harry is purposefully steering clear of Louis and he’s not being subtle about it.

 

He’s been on the other side of the room ever since they arrived and Louis is hyper-aware of the distance between them. Can’t help but think _‘see, you do remember and it does matter. It does matter what happened that night otherwise why are you avoiding me, why are you not next to me right now?’_

 

That feeling of being so close to breaking comes back with a vengeance when he looks across the crowded room and finds Harry whispering to some boy with his mouth almost touching the boy’s ear. Louis can actually feel the frustration sloshing around in his veins, and he doesn’t refuse the shot handed to him by Zayn who’s looking at him with worried eyes.

 

“Why so serious, Zaynie?”

 

For a second he’s afraid that Zayn’s going to lash out at him, yell in front of everyone because he’s got the cold, piercing eyes on and they’ve always scared the piss out of Louis. But the very next second, Zayn’s eyes are that warm honey colour that always made Louis wonder just how can anyone think there’s a mean bone in this boy’s body.

 

Standing in the middle of a crowded room and actually seeing the anger and coldness in those eyes turning into searing warmth reminds him of the only other time he’s seen this change before. And it’s not a pleasant memory to stumble on. Flashes of blood, bruises, and tears blind him for a second and before he can even balance himself, Zayn’s fingers are wrapping around his wrist and pulling him out of the darkness. This night has taken a turn for the unexpected as memories of a time long gone haunt his drunk-hazed mind.

 

“Lou, you still with me?”

 

They’re outside, the sky is pitch black but at least there’s no sweaty bodies surrounding them. Louis’ not sure when exactly they got out but the air is nice, slightly chilly on warm skin reminding him of a different kind of pain he’d almost gotten addicted to.

 

“Louis, are--”

 

He nods his head sharply because even now he can’t stand to see the worry in Zayn’s eyes, and the pity-sympathy on his face. He can’t let his best mate worry so much, he’s never been worth it.

 

“Stop that. I know what you’re thinking, I’ve told you so many times. Just stop.”

 

He wants to speak, laugh even because _no Zayn doesn’t know what he’s thinking. But it’s better if Zayn thinks that he’s putting himself down or thinking another self-deprecating thought because what he’s actually thinking is far worse._

 

“I’m alright, just had a bit of a head rush.”

 

“Yeah okay, don’t have to lie to me y’know.”

 

“I’m not, I’m good now. Let’s go in.”

 

Zayn’s hand on his arm stops him short, and when he looks up to find Zayn’s questioning eyes staring intently at his face, he feels a familiar wave of guilt wash him over.

 

“I’m fine, Z, I promise. Now you cheer up, this is my pseudo Birthday party, after all!”

 

The sarcasm and sass and everything in-between has always been a defense mechanism. Not necessarily the kind they teach about in psychology 101 classes but a defense mechanism, nonetheless. A joke here and there to cover up tears that are threatening to fall any second, sass and raised eyebrows to mask the pain of something ripping him in two, and sarcasm to hide all the heart-break and the bleeding agony he’s been carrying with himself for years now.

 

Everyone else may not know it but Zayn does, he was there. So it’s a courtesy to Louis really - and he is grateful for it every day - that Zayn neglects to mention that he can see the sadness underneath the jokes and the pain under all that sarcasm.

 

And like every other time, he doesn’t comment on how Louis’ smile is not as bright as usual or that he doesn’t look fine. No, he just nods his head and follows Louis inside.

 

***

 

Louis’ staring at him from across the room, his eyes have been following Harry’s every move all night and he knows because he can feel those startling blue eyes on him right now. All he’s doing is talking to someone, someone he’s never met before but feels like he has.

 

“So you’re very interested in myths and such, just like I am. Any chance you go to uni. for Mythology?”

 

The tall man next to him smiles at him before replying and again that sense of false familiarity makes him wonder just where has he seen that smile before.

 

“No, I uh--I actually teach.”

 

So, maybe Harry looks like a fish out of water with his mouth opening and closing because he was going to start bitching about tuition and part-time jobs to this person and it turns out he’s a teacher.

 

_Chill, Harry. He probably isn’t a professor, maybe just a school teacher._

 

“Oh, right. And where do you teach?”

 

“In this university. Are you alright, Harry?”

 

 _No, I’m not alright,_ he wants to say. _You didn’t tell me you were a professor at the university I go to, he wants to say. While I was rambling about my dick of a professor who should be fired. And while we’ve been discussing myths about demons for the better part of an hour._

 

“Oh. Yeah, yeah I’m alright.”

 

“You should look at your face, you’re definitely not alright.”

 

 _Are you going to tell Prof. Davies that I called him a dick?,_ he almost asks but can’t quite bring himself to.

 

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

 

“Oh thank God, I was about to start begging any second. Thank you, Sam. And I’m usually not like this, I don’t like saying mean things about people but Prof. Davies just--”

 

“I know, Harry. I had to work with him for a class my first year here and it was torture. I’ve never met anyone more misogynistic and racist in my life.”

 

“Well, at least I didn’t misjudge him, then.”

 

“Far from it, he’s not very well-liked by the faculty or the student body. A friend of mine who also teaches here actually had a bit of a feud with him, it was horrible.”

 

“I bet. So, what do you teach here, then?”

 

“I’m the co-chair of the Mythology department. Usually, I do Pagan and Old Christian mythology but this year I’m actually taking on a new course.”

 

“Oh, I took a Mythology course this last semester with Professor Novak.”

 

“Oh. Are you Harry Styles, by any chance?”

 

 _What._ His eyes are probably ready to bulge out of their sockets any second because what. How does Sam know his full name, why is he asking this question after Harry’s told him about Prof. Novak, and the only explanation that would make sense is that Prof. Novak has talked about him to Sam. And mentioned him by name. What.

 

“Uh yeah, that’s me.”

 

“Of course it is. Cas talks quite a lot about you, as a student I mean. He’s quite impressed by your interest in the subject.”

 

Cas not Professor Novak, so they must be close. And Prof. Novak actually mentions him in front of other people? He’s impressed by Harry? Just what is this life?

 

“Oh well, he’s probably my favourite professor here so. He knows his material so well, sometimes I felt like we were actually talking about real-life happenings and actual angels and archangels instead of myths.”

 

Sam laughs the second Harry tells him this, and it’s that startled laugh like he wasn’t expecting Harry to say what he did but is just so amused by it.

 

“I know, he gets a bit too engrossed in his work sometimes. We’ve had plenty of discussions about demons and pagan myths well into the night and he gets a little too interested. My brother actually calls him ‘Angel of the Lord’ as a joke.”

 

He feels a bit bad that he’s taking the piss out of his professor with this person he’s just met but it’s really funny. Because, he can imagine what it’d be like to be friends with Cas and have these discussions regularly and conclude that Cas is in fact not human just because he gets so immersed in myths and believes them to be true.

 

 _He’d be an angel,_ Harry thinks. _If he wasn’t human, he’d be an angel for sure. Confused by the way humans work, with his “rusty social skills”._

 

“Angel of the Lord? That’s hilarious!”

 

Louis and Zayn come back in through the side door and even though the tall man in front of him commands all of his attention, Harry could never not look at Louis or feel his presence. And that seems to be true even when he’s actively trying to avoid his best mate, his brain is still more attuned to Louis than it is to his own needs.

 

Zayn is watching Louis in that way that Harry has learned means that Louis is not his usual self right now. He’s never told Harry why he gets in these moods but they both acknowledge that there is something that only Zayn knows and that makes Louis emotionally unavailable, even to Harry.

 

His instincts are yelling at him to go stand by Louis, to see if he’s alright but Harry knows that tonight is not the night. He needs to stay away because he’s protecting himself, the last two parties he and Louis have been to didn’t end well for him so he needs to stay away tonight.

 

Sam is handing him a new drink with a small smile playing on his lips and Harry turns his back to the bar where Louis and Zayn are.

 

“It’s actually very weird that I met you tonight because every conversation Cas and I have about Mythology, it pretty much always involves you. He’s actually hoping you’ll go back for another course with him.”

 

Sam’s eyes are curiously darting over his face as if trying to suss out if he’s lying, and for some reason Harry feels a heavy sense of pressure like he’s hooked to a polygraph. _Why is this question so important, again?_

 

“I am actually, and I think I want to help him in research again. This last semester was so great, I got to learn so much from him.”

 

“He’d be pleased to know, I’m sure, that you’re going back. We hardly ever get students who actually want to learn about the literature and are not just looking for an easy elective.”

 

“To be honest, that’s why I took the course but Castiel totally changed my point of view.”

 

“It’s very rare that I get to hear that about Mythology. My own brother thinks we’re just here for easy electives. His big-fat crush on Castiel, notwithstanding.”

 

For some godforsaken reason that last bit makes something tug painfully in his chest. He knows it’s because he wants Dean to be happy with his professor but this is a far more extreme reaction than he’d ever think he’d have about something that’s not exactly personal.

 

Then his eyes fall on Louis for a second - laughing with his head thrown back, surrounded by a circle of people all staring at him with reverence on their faces - and it all makes sense. He can’t have who he wants so at least Dean should. He deserves it.

 

“Why do you look like someone’s just kicked your puppy? Oh god, don’t tell me you like Cas!”

 

“No! No no. I uh--it just--I have a mate who does. Like, really likes him, more like loves him.”

 

Sam’s mouth falls shut, he’s staring at Harry with wide eyes and he just doesn’t know what to say.

 

“So this mate of yours, is he also in university?”

 

Sam’s looking at him with narrowed eyes, doubt very clearly reflected in them. He’s probably thinking that Harry’s just invented this mate to cover up his own feelings for Cas and--goddamnit.

 

“He is a real person, I swear and no, he’s not a student.”

 

The doubt is still clear in the taller man’s eyes, although he doesn’t voice it. Harry knows he’s shit at convincing Sam that he’s not lying because he’s usually the least convincing person ever.

 

“He’s not a student? Is he older?”

 

“Yeah, he’s uh--wait, why do you ask?”

 

“I’m just looking out for my best friend. Plus, I told you my brother has a crush on Cas and--”

 

“But my mate is actually in love with him. He’s just not very good with words.”

 

“Does he know Cas or is it just infatuation--”

 

“Yes, he knows him. Even though he goes all red and looks like he’s having a heart-attack around him, he even talked to him at the Student Association party last month.”

 

Sam’s eyes widen to saucer-size and Harry isn’t sure which part of what he’s just said has made this happen. Maybe, he should’ve just minded his own business. Doesn’t he know how irritating it is when someone meddles in your lovelife?

 

“The costume party?”

 

Should he say anymore? Or should he shut the fuck up? Well, it seems like a harmless question.

 

“Yes.”

 

He doesn’t like the way Sam tilts his head to look at Harry, his eyes clouding over with someone unrecognizable. And then he straightens up, holy shit, Harry didn’t realise that Sam is so tall what with him slouching down against the wall--just how tall is this man?

 

“So you’re the _giraffe bitch_ that convinced Dean to go to the costume party and then invited Cas!”

 

Harry’s sure he’s having a heart attack, his heart is pounding in his chest and he’s definitely dizzy and his life is flashing in front of his eyes because he’s just told Castiel’s best friend that Coach has a crush on him. They’re going to find his dead body in a ditch with a hole blown through his head.

 

Sam’s hand settling on his shoulder brings him back to the present where he’s still alive but only till Coach finds out.

 

“Please don’t tell Cas, Coach will shoot me if he knows that I told you. He’s going t--”

 

“To do nothing. My god, I can’t believe you’re Cas’s Harry _and_ Dean’s well--his ‘giraffe bitch’. I don’t know why he calls you that, I asked him and he said it’s cuz you’re taller than the rest of the team and a little shit. Such a way with words he has, sometimes I doubt that he’s my brother.”

 

He’s just told Coach’s brother--which, what the fuck--that he is in love with said brother’s best friend. Yup, he should call his mum and say goodbye before Dean finds him.

 

“Harry, you need to breath. I won’t tell anyone anything, I promise.”

 

He’s going to find out, he’s definitely going to find out. He’s got eyes and ears everywhere, Dean’s going to find out that Harry just exposed his biggest secret to his brother of all people. _Oh God._

 

“I already knew, Harry, I mean he’s my brother of course I knew. And I’ve been trying to set them up for ages.”

 

Harry stands there with his mouth fallen open around the tiny noise of shock that just escaped his lips because what even is happening right now.

 

“I should thank you really, for finally getting them to talk like people. Trust me, living with Dean is torture and that’s without him running and or jumping out of windows the second Cas comes around. They can hardly even look at each other, much less talk but you made it happen. Hopefully, now they’ll resolve all the sexual tension. God, I hope so.”

 

Right.

 

“Harry, are you oka--”

 

A hand curls around his wrist and without even looking he can tell it’s Louis. From the touch or the warmth or god knows how but he knows it’s him. Sam’s looking at something beside him and sure enough when he turns, it’s to find Louis standing there with a blank face.

 

Only the thin, tight line of his lips betrays his nonchalance.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

That’s all he says before pulling on Harry’s wrist, and he stumbles after Louis. Hardly a step away, Sam’s hand on his other arm stops him and before Harry can even react, Louis turns around and levels Sam with the angriest face Harry’s ever seen on him.

 

It would be funny in any other instance to see someone as tall as Sam being glared at by Louis who’s hardly measuring up to Sam’s shoulder. And yet, Sam yanks his hand back because Louis looks like he’s two seconds away from stabbing someone.

 

Harry mouths ‘sorry’ to Sam and goes willingly when Louis pulls on his hand. He’s not even sure where they’re going, there are drunk people everywhere but even they part like the Red Sea when Louis leads him out of the room. Unpleasant memories flash through his mind at the sight, he tries to pull his hand back but Louis’ fingers tighten around his pulse point and god, Harry does not have the strength to resist this.

 

Louis finally stops walking when they’re outside, but his grip doesn’t falter. Not until he pushes Harry against a wall and starts pacing in front of him. He wants to reach out, touch and comfort, ask Louis if he’s alright but they’ve been here before and it didn’t end well that time so Harry’s just going to stand his ground and not lean in even if Louis initiates anything. Not again.

 

Harry just stares at him as his feet keep moving to and fro, he looks like he’s struggling with something and Harry wants to just ask but he’d promised himself that he’s going to be a best mate to Louis and nothing more. This is him being a best mate.

 

***

 

Hours of watching Harry across the room, purposefully avoiding Louis and talking to that giant man, of course Louis is angry. And drunk, but that’s beside the point. Zayn tried to keep him grounded but even he’s given up because Louis hasn’t stopped drinking ever since he stepped into this party and neither has he stopped staring across the room.

 

He wouldn’t be surprised if his blood pressure is through the roof right now, alcohol sloshing around in his veins and anger bubbling close to the surface.

 

 _It’s okay_ , he tells himself. _He’s just trying not to repeat what happened last time._

 

Only, the frustration he’s been carrying around for weeks about Paris is finally starting to sizzle out of him. He’s holding on, barely, but for Harry’s sake more than anything he tells himself to stay away.

 

Then, the stranger is leaning over and moving closer to Harry and that’s it. He doesn’t even know how he crossed the room so fast but even before the man can finish what he’s saying, Louis’s standing next to Harry and call it jealousy or desire or whatever, his fingers curl around Harry’s wrist and no, he doesn’t miss the way Harry’s eyes flutter closed and his lips fall open before he pulls himself together.

 

He’s not proud of it, the way he’s dragging Harry through the crowd. It’s a reminder of another time, when he was the one being dragged and pulled along but right now he needs Harry to be away from everyone, just the two of them.

 

He looks worried, Harry looks worried with his wide doe eyes tracing Louis’ feet thumping against the ground, and he wants to stop and tell Harry it’s alright but he’s not so sure anymore. His feet keep pacing, trying to keep the frustration from spilling over the brim, it’s very hard.

 

“Lou?”

 

He doesn’t want to worry him, that’s the last thing he wants but he also needs answers. It’s been more than a week and Harry still won’t stop pretending.

 

“Why are you being like this?”

 

Even in the dark night, Louis can see recognition flicker across Harry’s features but he pulls on that mask again. Straightens out his brow and looks away from Louis’ eyes.

 

“Being like what?”

 

God, when did they get like this? Harry’s always been honest and open with him from the first day so then when did they start lying and pretending with each other? When did their relationship get corrupted like this?

 

“You know what. C’mon Harry, haven’t you punished me enough?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Louis.”

 

He used to think that Harry couldn’t lie to him. How could he, Louis can always see right through him and yet here they are.

 

“I’m sorry, Haz. I don’t know how else I can say it, how many more times but I am so--”

 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I--”

 

“Then why have you been avoiding me all night? And don’t say you haven’t.”

 

“I was talking to a mate, Louis. I do have those outside of our happy little group so no, I haven’t been--”

 

“Bullshit. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

 

“What do you want me to do? Tie myself to you and stay with you all night?”

 

“That’s not--”

 

“That’s what you sound like though, like a possessive arsehole. Dragging me away from someone I was having a chat with. Do you realise that?”

 

Of all the things he expected, Harry calling him out on this never even crossed his mind. Harry already knows Louis struggles with emotions and he’s been nothing but kind and understanding so this feels like being doused in a bucket of ice-cold water.

 

He can actually feel the hair on the nape of his neck standing up, his skin heating up under his clothes. Harry’s still staring at him with cold, unrelenting eyes and Louis realises with a start that he has never felt this lonely in his life.

 

Harry’s slow drawl is venomous as he spits cold, calculated words at Louis.

 

“I thought so.”

 

He walks away, Harry walks away and he’s never done that either. Has never walked away from Louis unless he was pushed away. In a haze, Louis stops him with a hand on his arm and thankfully he does stop because Louis’ not sure what he’d have done if Harry didn’t stop.

 

“Wait, please.”

 

They stand like that in a suspended moment, Louis’ fingers curled around Harry’s arm as he holds him back from walking away. His green eyes are boring into Louis’, demanding an explanation but he’s got nothing to offer.

 

A wave of shock runs down his spine when Harry yanks his hand back and walks away with whispered words frozen in the air between them.

 

“Happy Birthday, Louis.”

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything good in this? Anything you didn't like?


	9. I feel the love and I feel it burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, there's a warning for this chapter: dub-con. It's a brief scene but if you feel uncomfortable, read the end notes for a detailed description.
> 
> Other than that, thank you for reading and leaving the honestly very kind feedback. Okay, go forth!

 

Niall and Zayn seem to be enjoying each other’s company a little too much and Liam is practically flexing his biceps every time he raises a glass to his mouth. Louis isn’t here anymore and Harry’s worried but he’s also pissed out of his mind.

 

Sam’s been very kind to him, holding him up every time he stumbles and looking at him worriedly but that doesn’t really do anything to loosen the suffocating knot in his chest almost choking him. Doesn’t do anything to make his breaths come easier or his hands stop trembling.

 

Louis’ been gone for over an hour now, no one’s seen him and no one’s worried either. Zayn would be, Harry thinks, if he wasn’t half lying over Niall on the sofa, he’d be worried about Louis. Maybe Harry should go look for him, actually he’s going to--

 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

 

“Over’’r therre--I’m--”

 

“Staying right here. Jesus Christ, how did you even drink that much? Let me get you some water.”

 

“I need to--Louis, he’s gone I need--”

 

“Look, just wait here a moment, okay? I’ll get you some water then we can go wherever you want.”

 

His heart is pounding in his chest, fingers clenching around thin air because he can’t stop thinking what Louis’ skin feels like against his own. An irrational fear settles in his gut, settles uncomfortably.

 

_If I don’t see him now, I never will. I’ll lose him for good, I need to--I need to see him, touch him and hold him I need--_

“Harry, can you hear me? Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

 

His head hurts when he tries to nod but it must’ve worked because Sam is walking away from him and--wow, he’s really tall. Harry can see his thin, long back and even longer legs as he walks towards the bar with his back to Harry.

 

He’s a nice person, he’s taking care of Harry while he’s drunk. He’s Castiel’s best friend, Harry thinks, of course he’s nice. And he’s Dean’s brother, it’s a bit weird really that Harry didn’t meet him before this. Coach is probably not going to like--

 

A hand settles on his thigh, effectively cutting off all his thoughts and when he looks up, he finds a lad sitting very close to him on the sofa. So close that he’s almost sitting in Harry’s lap. His head is fuzzy with errant thoughts as the hand moves about on his thigh, warmth spreading on his skin even through the layer of denim. There’s a part of him that registers with a start that this isn’t Louis’ hand, this isn’t the warmth he’s been yearning for.

 

_Where is Sam? Why isn’t he here? Why isn’t he telling this lad to go away?_

 

The hand moves higher up on his thigh, fingers digging into his flesh and it’s out of his control really that he leans in closer into the lad because he hasn’t been touched like this for too long. And him leaning in somehow means permission for the boy, who lunges forward and presses his lips against Harry’s.

 

It’s fast and it’s rough, Harry can taste blood on his lip but then it’s also contact and he’s been craving contact for months. Being around Louis constantly and wanting to touch, needing to touch but not being able to, he’s thirsty for contact he’s hungry for it.

 

He feels fingers on his neck, curling around the back and pulling him closer and he goes willingly.

 

The hand on his thigh is at his hip now, digits gripping tightly enough that there will be bruises tomorrow but all he can think about is tonight. This isn’t the touch he’s been wanting, the fingers are too thin, the body pressed into his too lean and long and the lips too dry. He pulls away a little to look into the person’s eyes and finds a calm grey canvas looking back at him.

 

He wants to see the vibrant ocean reflected back at him, a stormy sky or the silent cerulean of a lake on a dark night.

 

He wants to pull back, this is all wrong but before he can he feels teeth digging into his neck. It’s purely instinctual that he leans into it, pushes into the sharp canines and loses his train of thought as the lad presses a rough kiss into what Harry’s sure is a dark bruise by now.

  
Wetness on tender, bruised skin wrenches a desperate sound out of him. Obviously, the boy takes it to mean that Harry’s enjoying this so he moves his tongue with even more enthusiasm and his teeth dig even deeper this time.

 

Harry’s lost between wanting to pull this lad into the bathroom and finish what he’s started, and pushing him away and running back to his flat. The alcohol in his system won’t let him push him away though and he doubts that he could even walk three steps right now let alone run home.

 

The lad is oblivious about his struggle, his teeth digging into new unbruised flesh and leaving another mark. Harry can feel individual spots of pain as it spreads across his skin, lights up the nerve endings and he wants to lean in but also to push him away because it’s not Louis. Louis, he’s not here he’s--

 

“Get off him.”

 

His first thought is, Louis’ here. He’s here to help him. Because of course, Louis is always his first thought.

 

“I said get off him.”

 

The lad gets up from where he was almost sitting in his lap, Harry feels cold air against his skin and brushing against the bruises left there. He pushes his hand against the marks, they’re hurting now.

 

“Who are you, mate?”

 

“I’m his friend. And you need to go away.”

 

“He doesn’t have a problem with me so--”

 

“He’s also more vodka than blood right now, so. And he’s leaving, so do one.”

 

It’s Sam, he’s the one who’s standing over him a bottle of water stretched out toward him. He’s the one that came back and got rid of the faceless lad who was attached to Harry’s neck just moments ago. Harry’s glad.

 

“You’re thanks. No wait, I’m thanks--no, thanks. Sam. That’s you.”

 

“Jesus, how did you get this drunk from four fruity drinks?”

 

“Louis always says I’m a lightweight. Get drunk off flu medicine.”

 

“Of course you do. Here, drink this and then tell me where you live. I’ll drive you back.”

 

He takes the bottle with a curtsey - well attempted curtsey - and gulps it down, the cold water feels nice against his dry throat. Sam pulls him up and walks him out toward the parking, his hands holding Harry up against his own long frame.

 

Harry should be grateful and he is, but more than anything he’s worried about Louis. Where is he? Did he go back to the flat or did he go home with someone else? Oh God what if he did? What if he--

 

“You okay there, Harry? Look a little pale.”

 

He doesn’t know how he will cope if Louis chose someone else. Seeing Louis with someone else in the flat, at uni. and everywhere else they go together, Harry could never survive that. No. He’d go out of his mind, probably stop being around Louis and even the other lads to save himself the pain.

 

“Harry?”

 

Sam’s hands are gripping the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles have turned white but his eyes are looking at Harry delicately. The traffic at this hour is slow enough that he can afford taking his eyes off the road to check on Harry, to look at him like he’s fragile and is going to break any second.

 

“The reason I set Dean up with Cas is because I--. My best mate, I--haah. Why is this so hard to admit? I love him.”

 

There it is. The truth he’s been denying and burying for months. It does feel lighter, having admitted it to someone. Even if he’s drunk and that someone is almost a stranger.

 

Sam’s quiet, eyes back on the road and fingers lax against the steering wheel now.

 

“So yeah, I thought if I’m never going to be happy, at least someone should be.”

 

That sounds pitiful even to his own ears, obviously Sam’s going to pity him too now. But that’s the thing, he doesn’t want anyone’s pity. No, not after meeting Nick on the train to Cheshire and listening to his story. Not after being pitied by his mum and Gemma that entire week.

 

He doesn’t need anyone’s pity because he’s come to terms with it. He’s not what Louis wants, he’s not enough. And it’s okay.

 

It just gets hard sometimes, when he can feel Louis’ eyes on him, following his every move. When Louis leans into his touch, pulls him close to himself or when he drags him out of a crowded room like he has any right. Like he’s staking a claim.

 

So, yeah.

 

“He’s the one that hauled you away earlier?”

 

A sad laugh escapes his lips before he can stop it, Sam whips his head around to look at him, probably thinks he’s gone mad. He has, kind of. All of this pushing and pulling with Louis has made him mad.

 

“Yeah, that one.”

 

“He looked angry, like he was pissed at me for--”

 

“For talking to me? Yeah. He likes to play with me, hot and cold. Like a predator plays with prey, toys with it before killing it. Must be a sick sort of pleasure, watching someone hurt because of you. Watching them quiver and writhe around in helplessness but they won’t stop coming back even after you hurt them.”

 

He doesn’t even know where that came from, he’s never actually thought this before. It’s as if he’s voicing someone else’s thoughts but not really, because they don’t sound familiar but they also don’t sound unfamiliar.

 

“And you still love him?”

 

He can hear the disdain in Sam’s voice, the disgust toward Louis and it’s a testament to how far gone Harry is on that boy that the first thing he does is defend him.

 

“He’s not like that. I was saying in general, but Louis’ not like that. He’s--there’s something that he won’t tell me, I can feel it. Something that’s holding him back and he struggles with it, I can tell. It’s stopping him from picking a side, from choosing me or giving me up. And I’m not sure I can get hurt anymore just because he can’t decide. But it’s hurting him too, he’s not enjoying this. Quite the opposite.”

 

“So he’s tagging you along on his journey of indecision?”

 

“Essentially, yes. And I’d be willing to go along, happily, if I knew that there was a chance he’d stay. But I don’t. I don’t think I’m enough for him. I wish I was.”

 

“Harry--”

 

“I know, I know. I’ll find someone else, I know. But for now, it hurts. It’s ripping me apart. But it’s okay, I’ll get better. Better at ignoring how much it hurts.”

 

“You’re much too wise for your age, you know that? There’s people twice your age going around with no wits about themselves, failing to see anything but themselves. There were students much older in that party, drinking and flirting and fucking with no purpose. Worrying about another faceless warm body for another night. You’re a wise one.”

 

Sam’s hand on his shoulder is a warm touch, grounds him a little. Reminds him that he’s not alone, at least right now.

 

“Thanks. I wish I wasn’t, though. That I was still oblivious and innocent to the ways of the world, could be a child for a bit longer and not grow up before my time, but it’s okay.”

 

“Hey, you’ll be fine. I know what it’s like to be forced to grow up before time, and I turned out okay. Well, relatively. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

 

“Thank you, Sam. Really, thanks for everything. I’m not sure I’d have made it tonight without you.”

 

“I’m sure you’d be just fine, Harry. You’re a survivor, mate.”

 

That sounds like hope. He likes it. So he turns around and levels Sam with the biggest smile he can muster, dimples and all.

 

“Woah, don’t blind me there, I need to drive you home. That smile must get you free teas and phone numbers and whatnot. God, I think I can’t see out of one eye!”

 

So maybe he keeps grinning like a madman till they get to the flat. And Sam seems proud of his handiwork. Maybe this night wasn’t as big of a disaster as he thought. He made a friend.

 

***

 

It’s over. Harry’s seen right through his facade and called him out on it. Called him a possessive arsehole and those may as well just be the most perfect words ever uttered to describe him, he’s sure Liam would agree.

 

He’s home now, away from the drunk students and the grinding bodies on the dancefloor. He’s alone too, while the rest of the lads celebrate his birthday without him. He doubts anyone noticed he left, even Zayn looked lost in Niall’s bright eyes and even brighter smiles.

 

“Been a right twat, this is what you deserve.”

 

He wishes someone’d say something different, argue with him that no, he doesn’t deserve this. But there’s no one here and he knows as well as anyone that he really does deserve this. To be left alone like this, left behind while the rest of them stay out and drink and party.

 

“Harry’s probably sitting in that giant moose’s lap by now.”

 

That one hurts. Thinking of Harry with someone else, after he’s been moping and pining over Louis for so long, that one really hurts.

 

  
 _What if that ogre’s got his hands on Harry? Touching warm, pale skin he has no right to touch? Kissing him like Louis’ been wanting to for so long? Holding him close and moving against--_

 

Nope. No.

 

“Don’t do this, c’mon don’t torture yourself.”

 

He falls into bed with his clothes ripped off and lying all over the floor, shoes discarded at the foot of the bed and the flat dead silent around him. He can do this, fall asleep alone. It’s not like Harry was even a part of his life six months ago and Louis was doing just fine before he stumbled into their flat.

 

Louis will be fine, of course he will be. So what if Harry is the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on. So what if his stupid green eyes and his pink lips and his fucking dimples are all perfect. So what if Louis has been craving his touch for months, needing to kiss him just once. So what if Harry is everything Louis has ever wanted, ever needed.

 

So what if he lies awake most nights trying and failing not to touch himself while thinking of thin long fingers, broad shoulders and stupid pink lips. So what if he dreams of green eyes every other night, so what if he has to stop himself from touching himself and coming too soon to thoughts of his best mate.

 

So what if Harry has huge hands that could undo him with just one touch, so what if his own hand is slipping past his navel trailing lightly and teasingly over heated flesh. So what if he is imagining it’s someone else touching him, someone else’s fingers leaving fire in their wake on soft skin, someone else’s fingers digging into his waist and leaving bruises. So what--

 

He is trying so hard to keep the noises in, biting his lip hard enough that there’s blood on his tongue but little whimpers are falling out of his mouth anyway, as one hand grips the sheets under him, and his fingers drive in and out of himself relentlessly. Images of Harry staring at him from across the room, his long fingers curled around a beer bottle and everything in between that Louis can imagine, flash behind his closed-eyelids and he can’t help the little hiccups and short gasps filling the dark room. His voice is wrecked from biting down on his pillow and if anyone were to hear him right now, they’d think he was getting fucked with a tie shoved in his mouth or something.

 

In his hurry to get a fast rhythm going as his fingers push and pull and twist inside him, his blunt nail gets caught on the edge of the rim and his legs fall open at the little tremor of pleasure running up his spine. He keeps his finger there, teasing on the rim but not pushing in as the _wantneedneed_ builds and then he drives it in roughly hitting his prostate head on and that’s it. His mouth falls open, lips no longer caught between sharp teeth and a wet, drawn-out moan echoes around the silent room.

 

His body falls back into bed completely wrecked, thighs trembling as his feet give out and his legs lie lifeless against the cold sheet, no strength left in them. His fingers are still wrapped inside his wet heat, and he winces trying to pull them out as they rub against sensitive skin. His cock is utterly spent, still giving little helpless lurches on his stomach covered in white.

 

His throat is dry from whining and muffling his moans in his pillow and he can’t even bring himself to get up and get water. Stretching a bit, he pulls his shirt from the floor and wipes the mess off his stomach. Without even bothering to put any pants on, he rolls over and falls asleep naked in his bed.

 

***

 

Someone’s yelling somewhere. He wants to wring their neck, only that would require moving and he can’t even feel his limbs right now so that’s not an option.

 

Instead, he pulls a pillow over his ears in a magnificent attempt to cut the sound out.

 

Except of course, Irish bastards are louder than any sound a measly pillow can muffle. Of fucking course.

 

“Dat is hilarious! They’re de best people in de worrld! I’ll see you’s at tree then, don’t be late. Oh and--”

 

“If you don’t shut up in two seconds, I’m going to stab you, you leprechaun bitch!”

 

Someone’s laughing somewhere - and not just laughing, but actually guffawing - and while Louis would usually be very grateful for people finding him funny, right now he just needs everyone to shut up.

 

“Looks like I’ve disturbed de resident cuntnugget. Give us a ring when you get here. Cheers!”

 

He does shut up after that, thankfully. Now, Louis can return to his peaceful sleep without any interruptions from any members of the Republic of Ireland.

 

Just as he’s smiling into his pillow - finally grateful for the silence and peace, the door swings open followed by thudding footsteps into the room.

 

_If I lie motionless, maybe he’ll go away._

 

“I know you’re awake, Lou. ‘Cuz you’re not snoring.”

 

Zayn sounds all high and mighty, fucking vain bastard. And apparently a vain bastard who knows what he’s doing because the very next second, Louis’ answering him back, all plans of pretending to be dead long forgotten.

 

“I don’t snore.”

 

“Yeah right, tell that to someone who doesn’t know you’re a filthy mouth-breather.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“I saved some cake for you from last night. Hid it in the spices cupboard and Niall’s looking for it, so if you want it you need to go eat it now.”

 

“I don’t want cake, Z. I wanna sleep so--”

 

“It’s black forest.”

 

Zayn’s laughing behind him as he rips the blanket away in 0.3 seconds but Louis doesn’t care about that at all. He’s busy jumping off the bed to find some pants.

 

“Niall, stay the fuck away froM MY CAKE OR I WILL CUT YOU INTO TWO!”

 

“Why’d you sleep naked, Lou?”

 

“‘was hot last night.”

 

He doesn’t stay around to hear Zayn’s mumbled comments, no doubt questioning Louis’ actions and his reasons.

 

He’s already running toward the kitchen just as Niall sees him and runs through the lobby toward the kitchen too, but Louis knows where Zayn’s kept it so he gets there first. Niall’s there seconds later, panting from running through the lobby like it was on fire, and almost salivating all over his face.

 

In the end, the cake’s not that good and Niall’s puppy face makes Louis hand him half the cake anyway.

 

“You’re sweating. Both of you are sweating.”

 

That’s all Liam says, seconds after coming back from the gym and dropping his bag just inside the door. He looks like he’s in shock that Louis and Niall can sweat.

 

Zayn tells him about the cake situation, still in hysterics over how funny it was to see them both running toward the kitchen “like there was ah bag of mon-ehh there or summat.” Louis personally thinks food is sacred and people run after sacred things all the time.

 

“You’re sweating because you ran. For cake.”

 

Disappointment is evident on Liam’s face, he’s even shaking his head in exasperation. Louis would care for his antics if he could find any fucks to give.

 

“And here I thought you went running or something.”

 

He walks away to his room still shaking his head, but neither Louis nor Niall seem even a bit interested in whatever he’s got to say. Come to think of it, no one ever cares what Liam has to say, Louis thinks absently just as the front door opens and in walks Harry.

 

Harry, with a pair of loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a vest tight across his chest. Harry, with wet curls dripping water down his shoulders.

 

Harry, with---Louis’ stomach drops when he spots lovebites on Harry’s neck, so many of them. It’s not the number that makes him sick though, no. It’s the fact that they’re there, on Harry’s skin. That someone else gave him them. The patch of bruised skin, the marks of someone else’s mouth on him.

 

He feels like he can’t breathe, can’t stay so he gets up abruptly and rushes to his room. He can hear Niall asking what’s wrong with him, can hear Harry saying he doesn’t know and all Louis wants to do is yell, _how can you not know?_

 

He slams the door shut behind him, falls face first into his unmade bed because what else can he do really? So, Harry spent the night with someone, while he laid in this very bed imagining Harry’s hands and his mouth and his fingers making him come undone.

 

But they don’t know that. They’ve got no idea how far he’s fallen for Harry. And they don’t need to know, so he pulls on a shirt and goes back out to face the lads.

 

“There he is! what’s up, Tommo? Alright, mate?”

 

He turns to Niall with a half-smile and nods at him.

 

“‘m good, Nialler. Just needed to wash me face and brush.I need tea mate, you?”

 

Niall shakes his head no, so he turns towards Harry expectantly. He finds green eyes already looking at him, curiously studying his face.

 

“I do need a tea. Here, I’ll help ya.”

 

Louis turns his back to them and starts walking toward the kitchen, Harry following behind him in silence. He puts the kettle on and reaches up to get the tea out of the cupboard as Harry gets their cups ready.

 

They’ve done this a hundred times before, working in a rhythm around each other but today it feels like they’re bumping into each other, not familiar with one another when Louis knows that the one thing he’s fluent in these days is Harry.

 

They’re usually silent when there’s nothing to say - even though that doesn’t happen often - and the silences are comfortable, never cold but today it feels like they’re keeping things back. Biting their tongues when they both know there are things that need to be said.

 

The kettle’s whistle startles him out of his trance, Harry’s standing next to him but they’re not touching and that feels like an anomaly, like an offence levelled at him.

 

He pours the water into both cups and passes Harry the sugar, their hands touching for the briefest moment and he can still feel a shudder down his spine from just that one millisecond of contact.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Harry takes the sugar from him, his head bowed down as he stirs the honestly-insane three spoons of sugar into his tea. Louis doesn’t even know how to respond to his thanks, it feels so unfamiliar.

 

He’s afraid that’s how it’s going to be from now, Harry’s gone and found someone else and Louis has to pretend that he isn’t bothered by it so they’re always going to be like this around each other. He can’t think of a worse situation than being like this with his best mate.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The dub-son situation is between Harry and someone (not Louis). H is drunk and it doesn't go beyond touching/kissint but Harry is not in a state to stop it. It's brief and no one gets hurt.
> 
> So, anything you like in this chapter? Ready for level II of the angst-fest that's coming?


	10. Maybe I loved the wrong one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, once again, for not updating earlier. I'll try to not do it again but we all know I lie.

 

It gets worse.

 

The bruises on Harry’s skin turn a sickly purple, Louis catches him poking and prodding on them unconsciously and he wants to reach out and stop him but he doesn’t.

 

Harry isn’t quiet or uncomfortable around him anymore. No, he’s gone back to pretending like there’s nothing wrong between them. Like Paris didn’t happen, neither did the New Year’s party happen.

 

He’s normal around Louis, like there’s nothing wrong there. Like, there aren’t a million things unsaid between them. Louis hates it, feels the frustration creeping back into his veins; that same frustration that had made him drag Harry out of a crowded room on New Year’s, the same night that Harry went home with someone else.

 

But for now, they’re both pretending that none of that happened. Louis wants to stop, wants to yell and scream it all out loud but Harry presses on. Ignores his pointed looks, and just smiles at him as if they’re okay. And some days, Louis forgets.

 

The semester starts on a chilly Wednesday, the kind of day no one wants to work or get out of bed. Well, Louis never wants to get out of bed so he hardly even counts.

 

Fresh faced first-years are roaming the halls with enthusiasm loud on their faces, it’s disgusting. Louis can’t help but make a face as one of them is loudly exclaiming that she’s in love with uni. standing smack dab in the middle of the hallway. _I’ll ask you next month,_ he thinks. _Or even better, next year when this place will have sucked your soul out of you and left you an empty shell of the person you used to be._

 

Okay, so he’s a bit bitter but that’s only because he knows what this place can do. He was once like that girl, young and ambitious and full of life. Had places to go, dream jobs to find but he’d learned pretty quick that that’s not what uni. is about.

 

It’s about getting up for classes at unreasonable hours, running after professors begging for extensions on papers you haven’t even started yet and losing the will to live about two weeks into every new semester.

 

That first year, he’d looked at Greg in horror when the lad had mentioned not turning in an assignment because he just couldn’t be arsed. Now, he understands it. That in your final year, not your mother or father or even scary Nan can make you do an assignment if you don’t want to.

 

And even if Prince William were to come and ask him to write a paper two days before the deadline, he’d laugh in his face and continue playing FIFA. And then sit and stare at an empty Word document 7 hours before the paper is due.

 

So yeah, these are lessons he’s learnt from being in uni. all this time.

 

“Louis! Hey!”

 

He turns around to find Zayn rushing toward him, face screwed up like he’s in extreme pain.

 

“Hey, Zaynie, alright?”

 

“Yeah Lou, I’m good. You?”

 

Even though Zayn’s trying really hard to sound casual and bored, Louis can see his tightened jaw and that sends alarm bells ringing in his head.

 

“I’m alright mate, had the most boring class just now. You don’t look okay, what’s it?”

 

“It’s nothing, I just--”

 

He stops talking mid-sentence to turn around, as if to see something behind himself. Louis’ stepping away a little to see what Zayn’s looking at when a familiar voice rings out from behind the lad.

 

“Zayn? Where’re you runni--oh. Hey, Louis.”

 

Harry skids to a stop right next to Zayn, his chest heaving as if he’s been running. A glance at Zayn’s face confirms that Harry was chasing him down the hall.

 

“Hey, Hazza. What happened? Why’re you running around?”

 

“I was just looking for Zayn here, he’s hurt himself on the wrist. I was just gone to get the first-aid--”

 

As soon as he hears the words ‘hurt his wrist’, his hands freeze. No. Not again. He can feel himself slipping, old wounds being ripped open -- Zayn’s hand flies to his shoulder, his fingers squeeze hard enough to let Louis know that he’s okay.

 

“I’m alright, it was just a little bit--”

 

“It wasn’t little, you dropped the fetting knife and I heard a weird ripping sound. You screamed, Zayn, I’m sure--”

 

Louis’ not even all present as he takes in Harry’s words - which get more and more frantic as he goes on, all his detailed descriptions of Zayn’s injury, making him go deeper and deeper into his own head before Zayn interrupts him.

 

“I’m okay, Harry. I just have an old injury on that wrist is all.”

 

And there it is, a reminder of that time. His eyes fly up to find Zayn already looking at him, and all he’s saying with his eyes is ‘I’m okay’.

 

“Old injury?”

 

“Yeah, I broke that wrist a while ago. It’s brand new now, gives me trouble sometimes but otherwise it’s good.”

 

Louis’ still holding onto Zayn’s wrist - he’s not even sure when his hands reached out to hold that delicate part of Zayn’s otherwise strong and sturdy physique - he knows which one it is, had spent too many hours nursing it and apologising years ago.

 

“I still think you should see a doctor, that was a very painful sound I heard.”

 

Instinctively, his hand tightens a bit around the wrist but Zayn reassures him again. Even though he’s the one that’s hurt and he’s the one that’s in pain, he’s looking out for Louis. Constantly, reassuring him that he’s okay. And if that doesn’t describe their friendship, nothing else does.

 

“I just moved it a little too abruptly, that’s all. It doesn’t hurt anymore, I swear.”

 

Harry still seems doubtful, and Louis can’t even get his thoughts straight but Zayn is adamant. He keeps repeating that he’s okay, over and over and eventually they part to go to their classes but even then Louis can’t help the dread that’s already settled deep in his gut.

 

When he looks down at his phone in his lap, he finds three texts. The professor is almost wrapping up for the day, he probably won’t mind that Louis’ checking his phone.

 

_I’m sorry for scaring you, but I thought Zayn was seriously hurt. He seems okay though, don’t worry. I’m keeping an eye on him. x - Harry_

_I’m alright, Lou. I promise. No wanking for me for a while, though :( - Zayn_

_Lend a mate a hand? ;) - Zayn_

 

He smiles to himself at Zayn’s stupidity, he’s such a clown when he wants to be. He’s gotten so much better at taking the piss, Louis’ sure it’s thanks to his company.

 

And Harry, dear sweet Harry. Who doesn’t even know half of what’s going on around him but jumps in to Louis’ defence, anyway. What is Louis going to do with this boy?

 

***

 

It’s been hard going around and living his life with a bleeding heart throbbing in his chest but he’s trying. Louis still looks at him like he wants to bring up memories Harry’s been working so hard to bury, so he just steamrolls on and pretends like he doesn’t see Louis struggling every time he shuts down an effort at talking.

 

The new semester has helped taking his mind off things, but taking Sam’s class on Paganism was probably not the best way of going about forgetting everything that’s happened between him and Louis. Sam was, after all, present during his ‘Louis-is-a-predator’ meltdown and has seen Harry at his worst. Not that he behaves in any different way to make Harry feel uncomfortable around him.

 

Instead, he approaches Harry after the first class and offers him to become a marker for the course he took with Professor Novak last term. He was not expecting Sam to even talk to him at uni. after his drunken antics in front of the older man but he soon realises that he was wrong.

 

Over coffee at the nearest cafe, Sam explains that Castiel had brought up Harry in conversation and mentioned that he’d like him to be a marker. Harry readily accepts, his hours at the Writing Centre not nearly enough to pay rent.

 

As conversation flows, Harry learns that Sam is actually just as laid back as a person even though he’s a uni. prof and the Chairperson of an entire department, as he was lightly-buzzed in that party. He doesn’t bring up that night, not Louis’ behavior or what Harry had said to him in the car but his eyes look sad when he looks over sometimes.

 

“You don’t have to look at me like that, you know.”

 

Sam looks surprised, eyes wide and mouth open to deny what they both know is true,

 

“I’m no--”

 

“It’s all good.”

 

The man drops his eyes to the table, lips closed around his coffee mug. Harry feels bad for a second for berating him but at the end of the day he knows that if Sam keeps looking at him like he pities him for the situation with Louis, it’d be harder for him to go on pretending.

 

“So, is it not unethical if I’m mates with my professor?”

 

“No, it isn’t as long as we don’t talk about the class.”

 

“Alright, sounds fair. How’s Coach, by the way? Still dancing around Professor Novak?”

 

“Hahaha, it’s so odd sitting here talking to you about my brother, ya know. But yeah, still dancing.”

 

“Don’t know if I’ve told you this but the first time I mentioned to Coach that I was taking a class with Professor Novak, his face was the most hilarious thing. I swear he stumbled over nothing while trying to run away from me and he was stuttering and like, ‘good-good--yeah--good night-okay’, it was so funny!”

 

“I’m not surprised but I wish I was there, he’s always been all blushy around Cas. At Christmas two years ago, Cas couldn’t make it and Dean moped all the way into the new year and when Cas did show up with his brother, who we didn’t know was his brother, Dean ran away for a solid week muttering something about a well-needed roadtrip. It’s hilarious but it’s also sad because it’s been years since those two have been playing this game.”

 

It hits a little too close to home but Harry smiles at the words, laughs at Coach’s antics all the while telling himself that he and Louis will never be like that because Louis doesn’t want him and he’s slowly but steadily getting over his best mate.

 

It’s good though, sitting in that small cafe and talking about mythology with someone so knowledgable. It takes a load off his mind actually, being in a conversation without worrying about where Louis is in the room, and how much he should say before he says something he shouldn’t. It’s easy.

 

***

 

It’s easy so maybe that’s why he has been spending more and more time with Sam and even Castiel. Harry never knew that mythology could be so intriguing and the literature so so vast but he’s quickly learning by sitting in Sam and Cas’ office on campus and going off on tangents he didn’t even know existed a few months ago.

 

The first time Coach barges in without knocking and catches him mid-conversation with Cas, his eyes almost bulge out of his head, words dead on his tongue as his feet stutter to a stop through the door,

 

“Those fucking bastar--”

 

Cas’ hands stop mid gesture while explaining werewolf lore in Ancient France,

 

“Dean.”

 

Harry wants to disappear before these two start their awkward courting but Sam’s been gone to get tea for a good ten minutes and Harry can’t think of an excuse before Coach fully steps into the room shutting the door behind him.

 

“What--what’re you doing in here?”

 

He’s about to mumble something senseless no doubt but Cas saves him the effort and the disappointment,

 

“Working. He works for me.”

 

He may be imagining it but the air thickens in the tiny room, he can actually feel a spark on his skin from the tension.

 

“Working?”

 

“He’s my marker.”

 

Coach is not taking this news very well, he might even try to strangle Harry in his sleep but apparently Cas doesn’t see this. No, he just nods at Coach and dives back into how the French literature on werewolves is the most extensive on the topic. Coach is still glaring daggers at him when Sam shows up with four teas five minutes later. It’s an interesting experience, being glared at by Coach while Cas is completely oblivious and Sam looks like he has been where Harry is one too many times.

 

It gets easier though, when Coach starts dropping by every now and then and all four of them sit around talking. Quite surprisingly, Coach knows a lot about mythology as well, almost as much as Sam and Cas except for the scientific terminology. Harry doesn’t want to think about how Coach knows so much, perhaps in order to impress someone who also knows a lot about the subject. Perhaps.

 

***

 

He tries to not think about it, about everything that’s happened between Harry and him but it keeps catching up to him. It’s bitter irony really that he was the one that started the lying and pretending and now he’s the one struggling with it.

 

Harry has somehow become an expert on dodging any oncoming confrontation that Louis can spring on him.

 

_I’ve made him like me, corrupt and a liar. He used to be honest, and open about everything, now look what you’ve done.._

 

Winter drags on, some days are darker and harder to get through than others but Louis knows that summer is coming after this so he holds on. It’s funny really how life keeps going no matter how hard he finds it some days to wake up in the morning, but then again his past is proof enough that life doesn’t stop because one small, insignificant human is dying inside.

 

Liam brings up a discussion about their lease at some point which is expiring at the end of this semester so they need to decide whether to stay at the same flat or find a new place. Niall has a genius idea - _Haz, your lease must be expiring too, why don’t you move in with us and we can find a bigger flat?_ Louis’ not even sure how he keeps himself from showing the myriad of emotions coursing through him in that one second - surprise, hope, disappointment, hope, anger, hope…

 

Harry just nods his head excitedly before a wide grin spreads on his face, with dimples and all before a very distinct northern accent rings through the room--

 

“Aww, look at the frog prince!”

 

Louis glares so hard at Zayn that the boy actually looks down at the ground sheepishly. Harry and Louis both fail to acknowledge that Louis’ just reprimanded his best mate of years for making a light-hearted comment about another mate. They’ve both gotten exceptionally good at denying things right in front of them.

 

Liam, ever the well-balanced uni. student, interrupts Niall’s excited exclamations of Harry sharing their kitchen so a cook and food will both be closer and easier to access.

 

“I think we should look for a three-bedroom, so we can share and save on rent. If Harry pitches in too, we could find a decent flat closer to uni. for lesser rent.”

 

Everyone looks around the room, gauging everyone else’s reaction and apparently they all agree on sharing rooms. Louis is a bit surprised at Harry’s agreement - understatement of the century - after all the things they’re not saying even though they both know it’s getting harder to lie. If anything, Harry looks like someone’s just given him a banana when he was least expecting it - yes Louis is aware how stupid that analogy sounds but if anyone’s seen Harry’s face when he’s offered a banana, they’d agree with Louis on this.

 

Winter goes on - with more and more discussions about their flat - and so do classes, Louis is doing well in most of them. Even in the Religious Studies course he’d taken as an elective, with a wary expectation of it blowing up in his face.

 

See, Louis is an atheist. Well, more like--okay, there’s a quote he’d read somewhere a couple years ago and thought, that’s what I am.

 

‘He was an embittered atheist, the sort of atheist who does not so much disbelieve in God as personally dislike Him.’

 

And it had fit just right, that’s exactly how Louis felt on the topic of God, even after he’d been in one too many discussions about religion with the kind of people who go to Church every Sunday. Another person he remembers, the one that had been the only person who even came close to getting Louis to change his mind.

 

Who didn’t try to convince him of anything, but silently kept his own faith and kissed the cross hanging around his neck every morning and every night, staring right into Louis’ eyes.

 

No. Stop.

 

That’s one person he doesn’t need to be thinking about. Ever.

 

Anyway, his religious class is not what he thought it’d be. There’s no old, white man standing in front of the class persuading them that Jesus is the son of God and that they should all be good Christians.

 

No, Prof. Eisener is actually the funniest person Louis has come across. He jokes around, says things a pastor would never say - yes, he’s a real pastor - and then tells them to forget what he just said lest he be hung for blasphemy.

 

The first class he’d asked them who in the class was agnostic or atheist, but the conversion speech Louis had been expecting never came. Instead, he directs questions at Louis because ‘you have a very different point of view than me, Mr. Tomlinson, so what do you think about this? You think it really happened or is it one of the many things that get embellished in religious texts?’

 

It’s quickly becoming one of his favourite classes because the professor is not picking on him, and he doesn’t have to make stupid jokes to get attention. Prof. Eisener picks him out for long discussions, and he listens intently to whatever Louis has to say. The whole class listens.

 

The rest of his classes are not as interesting but at least they’re keeping him occupied. Footie season is officially dead but there are matches here and there. Coach is always grumbling on the days that Harry shows up, those two are always looking at each other funny and Louis can still remember the New Year’s party in crisp detail, so excuse him if he’s a bit skeptical.

 

The semester drags on, midterms here and there and footie matches every other week or so. Harry comes to every single one even when he has work the next day, Niall and Zayn also tag along most days. Louis is content, in most meanings of the word.

 

***

 

He’s walking back to his flat at two in the morning after a marking session for Cas, the streets are dead silent around him and darkness blankets everything. It’s supposed to be a full moon tonight but the clouds are hiding the moon, Harry can’t help but think about all the werewolf lore he’s been reading for weeks now after Cas introduced him to the subject. A loud howl in the distance startles him so bad he almost falls over, thoughts of wolves and shifters swirling around his tired mind as a hand snags out of the darkness and steadies him. He returns the favour by yelping and screaming at the sudden contact.

 

“‘s me, Haz.”

 

His heart is trying to escape out of his chest, another howl sounds in the distance but at least Louis is here. He unconsciously leans closer into Louis’ body, getting more contact than he’s allowed himself in the last few months. Louis is warm, like he always is.

 

“Lou? What’re you doing here?”

 

“‘was worried about you, thought I’d walk to uni. to see if you were there.”

 

A retort about the existence of cell phones is at the tip of his tongue but he knows better than to say it.

 

“Oh. Thanks.”

 

“Just don’t go walking about in the middle of the night, mate. And then you screamed right in my ear, think I’ve gone deaf.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

He quietly mumbles and tries pulling back a little out of the tight grip Louis still has on him. It’s a bit awkward walking like this, with Louis almost a head shorter than him but his grip doesn’t loosen and he doesn’t let Harry pull back.

 

“Don’t be daft, Harold, why are you apologising?”

 

“For uh--for screaming. I got startled.”

 

Louis chuckles at this, his whole body vibrating next to Harry’s for a short second but it’s enough to set his nerves alight.

 

“Like fucking Bambi on ice, Hazza!”

 

Harry frowns to himself, he can see the similarity in his head and Louis says it with such fondness but after being so distant from each other, this feels like a headrush.

 

“‘m not.”

 

“Yes, you are. Anyway, you got startled before I steadied you. Why’s that?”

 

He ducks his head in embarrassment because Louis absolutely does not need to know this but knowing him, he will find out.

 

“Well?”

 

“I uh--I’ve been reading a lot about werewolves lately, and uh it’s a full moon tonight and I heard a howl so like, I though--”

 

“That howl was a werewolf? A fucking werewolf??! Oh my god, you’re something else, Harold. It was a dog, love. One of those really lean and tall ones, I passed by it earlier. Oh god, this is hilar--”

 

“Don’t.”

 

“-ious. I can’t believe you actually thought it’s a werewolf. See, this is why you need to stop reading so much about witches and unicorns and whatever. Come on, let’s go.”

 

He knows Louis didn’t mean to but he feels chastised. Mythology is something that he has come to enjoy, and even though the lads put him through hell joking about it, that’s all been over for a while. They know and accept that Harry likes the subject, Zayn even comes and asks him what he’s reading sometimes and then Harry lodges into a rant and Zayn listens with interest.

 

Louis is the only one who hasn’t stopped with the jokes, who hasn’t realised that this might be what he wants to get a degree in. And this bothers Harry. More than it should.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Did ye like it?

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone reading this?


End file.
